Yamato: Tales of the Star Force
by dtill359
Summary: A collection of short stories centered around the crew of the Argo and their lives before, and during their careers in the EDF. AU. "The Sands of Time Are Sinking", Installment 0.5
1. Heart

**Heart**

 **Year: 2186**

 **Setting: United States of America, Jersey City, New Jersey**

"Daddy!" little Nova Tremaine started to run to the man who'd just stepped through the front door; her golden curls bounced around her bright face. But she had to stop halfway there. "Daddy –you're – home!" she panted as she made it the rest of the way to her father and clung to his leg.

"Yes, honey." He reached down and picked up his little girl with an "Umph! My you're getting big."

Mr. Tremaine walked the short distance to the big couch in the living room and set Nova down before joining her. He untied his red and yellow tie and draped it over the armrest.

"How was school today?" he asked.

Nova's face instantly dimmed. "Okay, I guess…" she said, her eyes now fixed on the cushions she sat on.

"Just, 'okay'?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Nova still didn't look at him, "It – the other kids… they make fun of me…" she said quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Why would they do that?" her father asked.

"Because I can't run and play like they can – " her eyes suddenly shot up to her father in distress, "But Daddy, I try, really, I do!" She said, her big, sweet, brown eyes starting to fill with tears.

"I know you do, sweetheart." He gave her a big hug, "Don't worry about the other kids." He smiled, "After all, we're moving in two weeks, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" the girl's eyes lit again and her tears faded, then a question passed over her face, "But Mommy never said why we're going. Did you get another job?"

"No, Nova." Her father's face changed in a way she didn't understand, "That isn't why." He paused for a moment, then took a breath and continued, "There's a good doctor there who can make it so you _can_ play with the other kids – so they'll never make fun of you for not being able to do what they can."

"I have to go to the doctor?" Nova crinkled her nose in distaste. "I don't like doctors."

"It's okay, Nova. You won't have to stay very long, but you may have to see the doctor several times."

"Oh…" Nova was unhappy with this, of course, but she had to realize that it was for her own good.

Nova didn't say anything for a long time. She just sat there, toying with her fingers, eyes down, face blank. Then she looked up and said, "But I'll be able to run?"

"Yes, Nova." Her father nodded, "You will."

"Okay, Daddy." She smiled, "I hope the doctor's nice."

"I'm sure she is," Lucas patted his daughter in the back gently, "We've been looking for a good doctor ever since we learned about your heart a few months ago."

The little girl snuggled up against her father and threw her little arms as far around him as she could. "Thank you, Daddy."

A few weeks later Nova had her first appointment with the cardiology specialist in Houston, Texas. She didn't hate the appointment, though she didn't like the smell of the office at all. But she was delighted to be supplied with ample things to do while her parents talked with Dr. Amy Wilson about the tests she'd taken today.

She didn't remember much else about the visits, and as the weeks and months went by, Nova noticed that things around her were changing. She didn't feel any better after the doctor visits, and her parents always seemed tired and worried about something.

Her father never wore his nice suits anymore. Instead he always had on a pair of old jeans and a work shirt. Instead of the nice job he'd had back in New Jersey, he worked at one of the local manufacturing plants. It was a nice place, but nothing like where he'd once worked. Their Texas life was so different from their life in New Jersey.

One day, during her regular weekly visit Dr. Wilson wanted to talk with Nova about something. The girl was intrigued. The doctor hadn't talked with her much one-on-one. Usually her mother and father were there too.

"Nova." The doctor patted the seat beside her, "Sit down, sweetie. There's something important we need to talk about."

"Okay." The girl obeyed, looking up at the woman with inquisitive eyes. "What are we gonna talk about?"

Dr. Wilson smiled at the girl's refreshing simplicity, then said, "You know there's something wrong with your heart."

Nova nodded, "Uh huh."

"Well, I'm going to fix it." Dr. Wilson replied, "But I'll have to operate on your heart to do that."

"Operate? What's that?" the child asked, the word foreign to her.

"It means that I have to go inside your heart."

"Like Jesus?" Nova asked in wonder, "He's in my heart too. If you go in you might see Him."

The doctor laughed at this, "No, Nova, not like that. I'll have to do surgery – cut open your heart – but only a little bit – just enough to let my surgical equipment get in so I can fix your heart."

"Oh." Nova said, finally understanding, "Is that gonna hurt?"

"No, honey. You'll be asleep while I do that." Dr. Wilson replied.

"Well, okay then." Nova replied, her smile restored. "I think I can do that."

"Very good." Wilson smiled, "I'll see you in a few weeks then."

"Okay." Nova replied, "Can I go see my parents now?"

"Sure, Sweetie." The doctor nodded and let Nova out into the waiting room where her parents sat.

Four weeks later, the surgery was over and Nova was just waking.

"Daddy…?" Nova whispered. "Everything's all blurry."

"It's okay, sweetie." Her father patted her hand, "You'll be able to see better in a minute. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off."

"Where's Mommy?" Nova blinked hard, trying to clear her vision.

"I'm right here, Nova." Her mother appeared next to her father and Nova felt her mother's hand on her arm.

"Is my heart fixed?" Nova asked pointedly.

"Yes, it is." Replied her father, "You'll have to rest for a few months, but after that, you'll be able to run and climb, and hike, just like everyone else."

"Thank you, Daddy." Nova's eyes cleared, only to tear up. "Thank you, Mommy." She pulled her child's hand out from under her father's and laid it over both her father's and mother's hands. "I love you."

"We love you too, Nova." Her father replied, and though Nova couldn't see their faces clearly, she felt their loving eyes and their smiles of joy.

 **Year: 2199**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo**_ **somewhere near Neptune**

Nova fingered the small diamond thoughtfully, remembering that day so many years ago that had changed her life. She was here now because of that day. Everyone she'd met, everything she'd done. She'd become a nurse because of that day.

She put the diamond back and pulled out a hologram of her parents from 2187. Her mother looked so young then. And her biological father looked just as she remembered him.

Nova held the holo close and whispered, "Thank you, Daddy. You gave up everything you knew so that I could be who I am today." She looked at the face of Lucas Tremaine and smiled through tears, "Thanks for being the hero I needed."


	2. Refit

**Refit**

 **Year: 2176**

 **Setting: First Lunar Colony**

"Mio, we _have_ to go on that one!" the boy pointed excitedly, jumping up and down, eyes wide.

The coaster was magnificent – the most elaborate that the park had to offer.

"No, Stephen." The older girl huffed, folding her arms. "We're not going anywhere until Mom and Dad get back."

"But Mio!" Stephen protested, "This is the one I've been waiting to ride. And you get to drive your own rocket car down the track and everything!"

"I said, 'no,' Stephen." Mio whined, "There's no way I'm getting in trouble while we're on vacation."

"They'll never even know." Stephen insisted, "Come on. The line's dying down." The boy started over to the end of the short line.

"Stephen?" Mio called after him, "Stephen!" she shook her head and muttered, "Great… He never listens to me… Better follow him or he'll get lost."

Mio ran after him and caught up just as he was going through the entrance.

"Where's your driver, son?" the ride attendant was saying when she ran up.

"There she is." Stephen pointed at Mio. "She's coming with me."

"How old are you, young lady?" asked the attendant.

"Eleven, but – "

"Great, minimum driver age is ten. Go on in, you two. Have fun. Just make sure to keep your hands on the controls at all times." The attendant shooed them into their rocket car before Mio could protest.

"I didn't think you were coming." Stephen said as the car started up.

"I _wasn't_ coming until I got shoved in here." Mio retorted. "I was _trying_ to stop you."

"Uh, huh. Well, it was great you came when you did, otherwise they wouldn't have let me on." Stephen reached over towards the controls, "Switch with me."

"You heard the attendant, the minimum age for drivers is ten; you're seven. It's not happening."

"Oh yes, it is, sister." With that, Stephen climbed over Mio and pushed her over into the passenger seat while he took hold of the steering. "Get ready for the ride of your life."

Mio tried to pry the controls away from her younger brother, but he wouldn't give them up.

"Fine. Just make sure we get done before Mom and Dad find out we're not where we're supposed to be."

"Consider it done." Stephen replied and accelerated so fast that Mio was plastered back against the seat.

They flew around turns and loops, gaining speed until Mio thought they would fly off the track.

"Stephen, slow down, there's a turn coming." Mio suddenly exclaimed.

"I know; we'll make it fine." Stephen replied, his eyes glued to the upcoming turn.

They shot around the bend.

"Told you we'd make it!" The boy exclaimed, and he held up two victorious hands.

"Stephen, don't – " Mio never got the chance to finish. The lights on the controls blinked, then shorted out.

Stephen lunged for the break. He missed.

Mio screamed as the rocket car suddenly jolted to the left crashed through the barrier around the track. Her scream was cut short when the wreck landed with a sickening crunch-thud fifty feet below.

* * *

Everything was blurry… and so… white? Where was he?

He tried to clear his vision, blinking over and over, then he tried to reach up and rub his eyes. Nothing happened.

A sick feeling started to roil in his gut and he tried to move his feet.

He tried over and over to move something – anything other than his neck or torso, but he just couldn't, no matter how much willpower he put into it. What made it worse was that his entire body from his neck down was covered with a sheet, and it felt like there were pillows up against his sides, so he couldn't roll over to look towards the door. And his feet and hands felt so itchy.

He felt like he was trapped, and a bolt of fear shot through him. Then he remembered.

"Mio…?" He managed to rasp, "Mio!" he tried again, this time more successfully.

He didn't hear anything. He kept calling for his sister. She had to be okay. This was all his fault. He should have listened to Mio and stayed put.

"Doctor, he's awake!"

An unfamiliar voice called from somewhere out of his line of vision.

Suddenly a blurry face appeared over him. He couldn't see the face well enough to tell who it was.

"Mom?" he asked. "What's going on? Where's Mio?"

"I'm not your mom, honey." The southern accent definitely didn't belong to Elaina Sandor. "She's comin' though. Just hang in there for one more minute." She reached over and wiped something out of his eyes. Suddenly he could see much better. "You think you can hold on a little longer?"

Stephen looked down at his body.

"No, no, honey, don't look right now. You –"

"Wha – wha – what's wrong – with me?" he suddenly couldn't breathe, even though he was inhaling and exhaling as quickly as he could.

The sight that met his eyes was more horrible than he ever thought it could be.

"The accident was really bad, sweetheart." The nurse said gently, "You need to breathe slower or you'll pass out again."

"Where – where are my arms?! My legs?! Why can I still feel them if they're not there?" Stephen's voice tightened and tears rolled down his cheeks. "What's going on?!" he demanded.

"Honey, you need to calm down." The nurse tried to get the boy to breath normally, "The doctor and your parents are talking about how to help you."

"What can they do about this? Stephen sobbed, "They're – gone…"

"Yes…" the nurse replied softly, "Yes, they are…"; she looked the boy in the eye, "I can't tell you your life's gonna be normal again, Stephen." The nurse said frankly. "But, believe it or not, there are some options. You've got a good chance one of them will work for you." The nurse gave Stephen a small smile, "Don't worry. You've got the best bionics professionals working on your case right now."

Stephen's eyes widened and his breathing slowed down. "Bionics?" he sniffed, "Really?"

"Uh huh." The nurse nodded again and wiped away the boys tears. "You're gonna be okay, sweetheart." She smiled at Stephen, "Promise."

"Where's Mio?" Stephen's eyes widened again and the panic returned.

"It's okay. Your sister made it. She landed on top of you; you kept her from getting hurt more than she was. Just a couple broken bones; she'll be back on her feet real soon."

Stephen relaxed, "Good, I'm glad she didn't get really hurt." He looked away, shame settling over his eyes. "I did something really stupid," he said bitterly.

"Yeah," the nurse nodded, "Ya did."

Her frankness made Stephen look back up, "You're agreeing with me?"

"Yep." She nodded, "But it wasn't all your fault, you know."

"It wasn't?"

"There was a power outage while you were on that coaster. Someone mistimed a system restart."

"How do you know that?" Stephen asked.

"I know a lotta things, Stephen Sandor." She smiled at the boy again, "And I know this is just the beginning of your life – not the end." She looked over her shoulder, "Your parents and the doctor will be in any second." She turned to go, "Take care."

Stephen started to wave, then remembered he couldn't, so he said, "Thanks…"

The nurse nodded, then walked toward the door.

Stephen blinked, and the nurse was gone.

* * *

 **Year: 2199**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo**_ **, near Pluto orbit**

The charging station on the wall emitted a low hum. In a few seconds his left arm would be charged for another two weeks.

Sandor stared at the limb, remembering the day he'd been fitted for his first set of bionic arms and legs. It had been a bittersweet day; he had regained a semblance of normalcy in his life, and at the same time he'd given it up. He hadn't told anyone about his accident until his Academy days, and even then the list of people who knew was as short as he could keep it.

He regretted his decision that day so long ago, but he knew that he'd been spared for a reason. Perhaps someday his "oddity" might come in handy.

He'd even taken to making some modifications of his own to his bionics when he decided to come on this journey. He'd just finished another one he hoped he'd never have to use.

The charged bleeped quietly and Sandor took his arm off the charger and carefully reattached it to his shoulder. The moment he did a sense of familiarity fell over him. It took him a moment to realize when he'd felt it before, then he remembered. It was the same feeling he'd had when that nurse left his room the day of his accident. It was the sense that someone was there. That someone was watching over him.

"Sandor." His communicator buzzed for his attention.

"Yes, Captain." He replied, glad he'd finished his charging cycle.

"We're approaching Pluto. I need you on the bridge."

"Yes, Captain." He replied, and started out the door. Just before he was completely out of the room he stopped.

After that day at the hospital, he'd never seen or heard from that nurse again. Maybe… just maybe…

But no – it couldn't have been… Surely he would have realized it before now.

He shook his head; no she couldn't have been one of them; no angel would have told him he'd done something stupid with such frankness. But then again… perhaps they would.

Sandor chuckled and stepped out the door. Maybe he'd see that nurse again some day after all.


	3. Hanukkah

**Hanukkah**

 **Year: 2187; Date: 25 Kislev**

 **Setting: Kirishi, Russia**

"Not again!" young Homer Glitchman exclaimed as the dreidel fell on "shin*" once again on his turn. He chipped another candy piece into the bowl. "Why am _I_ the only one paying in here?" he asked his cousins, who always joined him and his parents for Chanukah*.

"Just because your luck is bad doesn't mean you can blame _us_ for it." With a smirk Nessa socked him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Homer rubbed his throbbing arm and passed the wooden top to her.

She spun it. It fell on "gimel.*" Again. "Hand it over." She motioned for the bowl. Her little brother handed it to her and she scooped everything out of it and into her lap with a grin. Then she passed on the dreidel.

"Haven't we been doing this long enough?" Oren asked from the other side of the circle. "All that's happening is Nessa's beating the pants off Homer and the rest of us are getting stuck in the middle. Let's do something else."

"Like what?" Homer asked, eager to leave the game he was miserably losing.

"Why don't we go outside for a while?" one of the older cousins suggested. "There's always something going on around here when we come to visit."

"Sounds good." Nessa agreed.

Homer nodded his approval, and Oren said, "Yeah, okay."

The kids shoveled all the candy back into the bowl and bundled up. With a "We'll be back later" to their parents they set off into the thick stand of trees by Homer's house.

It was cold, but not as cold as it usually was this time of year.

Homer hung back and looked up through the trees. He could just barely make out a few stars twinkling up in the dark sky.

The night was clear and clean and he was glad to have other kids to spend time with, even if they _were_ a little annoying sometimes.

The group crunched along through the snow, making sure to avoid the low-hanging branches. Each one of them carried their own light and Homer, keeping back towards the rear – as he usually did – could see every one of the little lights bouncing along as his cousins walked. It was almost like giant fireflies had come to live in his little forest.

Suddenly he noticed the rest of the kids were getting a little too far ahead of him and he started to pick up his pace, trying to catch up.

He was stepping over a large tree root when he slipped.

"Ow!" he exclaimed as he came down hard on his ankle. His light flew out of his hand and into the snow a few feet away.

"Hey! Wait!" he called out to his cousins, but no one heard him.

"Just great…" he muttered. "There's no way I can follow them now… At least I know which way we came…" he struggled to get up, his ankle burning as he did so. He hopped awkwardly on one foot over to his light and picked it up. By now his cousins were out of sight.

He sighed and turned to go back to his house when an odd sound caught his ear.

Singing?

He stood silently, trying to figure out which way it was coming from.

He turned off his light for a moment, looking for any indication of a fire or lantern somewhere nearby.

Just off to the right there was a faint glow. He clicked his light back on and started slowly in the direction of the light. He hoped it wasn't far.

His slow trek through the snow was rewarded when he came upon an open-air pavilion just beyond his parents' property line.

There were at least two dozen people sitting in chairs around a warm, glowing fire pit singing songs he had never heard before.

He inched closer to the strange gathering, staying behind the trees, hoping he wouldn't be seen.

The people's faces looked happy – a lot happier than most people in this town.

A man got up in front of the group and started to speak, "Glad everyone could be here tonight. After all, it is Christmas and I know most of you have family you could be with tonight instead of joining me out here in the cold."

The group chuckled.

"Good singing tonight." The man said, "But we have one last song I would like for us to sing. It's not very joyful like most Christmas songs, but it is sobering – a reminder that the Israel we sing about so much this time of year is still far from a complete nation. She is fragmented – scattered. But one day she will be whole again. So let us sing, 'O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.'"

The man sat back down and the group began to sing. Homer had never heard a song like this.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,  
and ransom captive Israel,  
that mourns in lonely exile here  
until the Son of God appear.

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!  
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

O come, O Bright and Morning Star,  
and bring us comfort from afar!  
Dispel the shadows of the night  
and turn our darkness into light.

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!  
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

O come, thou Key of David, come,  
and open wide our heavenly home;  
make safe the way that leads on high,  
and close the path to misery.

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!  
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

O come, O come, great Lord of might,  
who to Thy tribes on Sinai's height  
in ancient times once gave the law  
in cloud and majesty and awe.

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!  
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

O come, thou Root of Jesse's tree,  
an ensign of thy people be;  
before thee rulers silent fall;  
all peoples on thy mercy call.

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!  
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

O come, Desire of nations, bind  
in one the hearts of all mankind;  
bid thou our sad divisions cease,  
and be thyself our King of Peace.

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!  
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

There was something in their voices – something that longed for these words to be true. To his surprise he felt the cold sting of tears freezing on his face. Who were these people who wished his nation whole again?

He didn't have time to wonder because after that the group broke up. They put out their fire, picked up their chairs and put them away. Then they all disappeared off into the trees.

Homer just stood there in the silence of the winter's night.

Snow started to fall again, making the air tingle all around him. He couldn't get the song out of his mind. The music had been so sad, but carried with it a hope he had not felt before.

Though he didn't understand all the words to the song, in his heart he knew it had been for him. Maybe someday he _would_ understand them all.

"Hey! What're you doing way over here?" Nessa's voice carried through the cold air. "We thought you got lost."

Homer turned around to see the entire group headed toward him. "No, I hurt my ankle." He replied, struggling to turn around.

His oldest cousin, Gavrel, all of fifteen and taller than Homer and Nessa combined, came and picked him up easily.

"Let's get back." Gavrel said, "It's getting late."

The younger ones all agreed and they set off home.

"What were you doing over here anyway?" Nessa asked, looking up at Homer.

"Nothing." Homer dismissed. "Just looking around."

Nessa shrugged and jogged on ahead, careful not to trip on anything in the process.

All the while the words Homer had heard played over and over in his head, _"_ _And ransom captive Israel…"_

* * *

 **Year: 2199; Kislev 25**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo**_ **somewhere outside our solar system**

Homer laughed at Mark as he awkwardly spun the funny little top. "You've never done this before, have you?" he asked as the top struggled to spin twice then promptly fell over.

"Hey, give me a break. I've never even _seen_ anything like this before." Mark tried again, this time with little more success than the last attempt.

"You sure you're not just pretending to be bad at this to get sympathy?" Derek prodded.

"Be quiet and let me concentrate." Mark said, holding up a hand to silence Wildstar.

Derek shrugged, "Whatever."

Mark tried a third time, finally able to get the dreidel to spin properly. It twirled around for a bit, then settled on the table, a strange character staring up at Mark.

"What does that mean?" he pointed at the top.

Homer laughed, "That means, 'pay up; you lost.'"

"What? Not again!" he shook his head, "That happened to me last time too." Mark tossed a random game piece into the small bowl off to the side of the circle. "And how are _you_ winning by so much?" he asked Homer.

"Years of practice." He smirked, "And a cousin who always beat me."

"Hey, I say we declare Homer the official winner and move on to something else." Derek piped up.

"Yeah, I think I'm tired of losing for now." Mark agreed.

"Okay, see you guys later then." Homer waved as his fellow officers left the table and moved on to something they thought they might win at.

He was gathering up the game pieces and sticking them back in their containers when he heard a familiar tune. He stopped and listened. It wasn't coming from the ship's comm system. He looked around, trying to find its source.

His eyes went from one side of the mess hall to the other. He saw decked out tables with Christmas decorations all over the place. There was a menorah sitting stately in one corner with Hanukkah trimmings, and there were a few other holidays represented in the room too, but in everything he couldn't find anyone who looked like they were singing.

He was just about to get up when he looked just off to his left. There was Nova leaning up against the wall holding a cup of water. He stood and started over to her. She would be the only one who wouldn't laugh at him for trying to find the source of the strange music.

As he got closer he realized that _she_ was the one he was looking for.

"You know that song?" he asked her.

"Oh! Homer, I didn't see you." She replied, her humming coming to an abrupt halt, "I didn't think anyone could hear me over here."

"Only if you listen." He smiled shyly, "Where'd you learn that song?" he asked.

"'O Come, O Come, Emmanuel'?" she said, "I learned it when I was a little girl. My father taught it to me. It was his favorite Christmas song. How do _you_ know it?" she asked.

"Heard it one year when I was a kid. Could never get it outta my head." He replied, then fell silent. He leaned against the wall and looked at the floor, suddenly very hesitant to say anything else.

"What is it, Homer?" Nova asked.

"It's silly…" he replied in a low voice.

"What is?" Nova asked again.

"You don't have to if you don't want to…" he still wouldn't look at her.

"Don't have to what?"

"Do… you think you could sing it?" he finally asked, his eyes looking up at her.

Nova had never seen this look on his face before. "Yes…" she nodded, "I'd be happy to."

With that she softly sang the old song she'd known for so long.

"Thanks…" Homer said once she'd finished. "It's different now that I understand it…" he said, his eyes glassy.

Nova smiled softly, "It is, isn't it…" she looked at Homer, "Happy Hanukkah."

Homer returned her smile and said, "Merry Christmas, Nova" before slowly going back to his table.

* * *

 **Notes:  
*** shin – a Hebrew letter on a dreidel indicating that the player has to "pay in" to the game pot  
* Chanukah – Hanukkah; celebrated for eight days; it does not always coincide with Christmas Day, though for the purposes of this story, it did these two years  
* gimel – a Hebrew letter on a dreidel indicating that he player has won the entire game pot


	4. Gift

**Gift**

 **Year: 2190; Date: December 25**

 **Setting: EDF Base on Great Island, Japan**

Nine year-old Derek Wildstar sat with his arms on the window sill, staring out at what little scenery he could see from the room he shared with his brother at the EDF base here on Great Island. Ever since their parents had been killed a little less than a year ago the commander of the base had seen fit to let Derek stay here with his brother.

Derek sighed, resting his head in his folded arms. School was over for the week – thankfully. It was boring now that he couldn't go to classes with anyone. The only lessons he had now were pre-recorded videos. At least he could skip what he wanted. That was the only advantage he could see in it.

He would have gone outside, but there wasn't anything to do. Oh, sure, the officers at the base were having a Christmas party sometime this evening, but who knew how long that would last, especially with more and more bombs coming in every day. Sometimes they went weeks without hearing of any bombings nearby, and sometimes they could hear the detonations come one right after the other, even in the cafeteria.

Derek sighed again and glanced at the time – 2 PM.

He got up and paced.

Alex was on duty for another three hours; until then, he was by himself.

After twenty minutes of wearing a path in the floor he finally got tired of seeing the same four walls over and over, so he stepped over to the door. It hissed open and he peeked his head out, looking both ways down the hall. A few men and women were milling about talking or heading out to eat a late lunch.

The boy stepped out into the hall and looked both ways again for good measure. Then, he picked a direction and headed down the hall, not knowing where he would end up, and not caring either. Anything was better than the unending boredom of his brother's old dorm room.

He walked for a while, looking around at the various things going on in the building. He looked in every door that would open for him. He saw people his brother's age and a little older talking, laughing, handing each other small packages – doing everything he couldn't now.

He sighed and continued walking every time he saw a happy gathering.

He walked and walked. The hall was quiet now; it looked like no one was in this part of the building.

Derek came to the end of the hall. There was a single door. He went up to it. Just like all the others, it hissed open.

The boy stepped into the room and looked around.

It was dark and much different from all the other rooms he'd seen on the hall. This one, unlike the others, had the windows closed and covered, and crowded in the far corner he could barely make out the silhouettes of a host of lab equipment dumped in one corner.

Derek started towards the strange equipment. As he came closer he saw an odd glow coming from behind the odd mess.

He slowly crept towards the light, not knowing what it could be, but not wanting to disturb whatever it was if it was dangerous.

He reached a desk and crouched down behind it, waiting and listening for anything that might tell him what the light was.

He didn't hear anything so he slowly edged around the corner of the desk and looked.

He almost laughed at himself. The light was only a small Christmas tree, decorated and lit with a bright star topping it. He stood up and walked over to the tree to look at it more closely. Why was a Christmas tree all the way out here in an empty lab?

He came up to the tree and reached out to touch it. His hand passed straight through its branches.

"It's a hologram."

Derek jumped nearly a foot straight up in the air. "Who's here?!" he exclaimed upon his landing, looking everywhere for the source of the voice. Then he saw him. A young man was sitting in an office chair not five feet away, staring into the light of the small tree.

"My name's Stephen." The young man replied.

Derek noted that this other young man was a little older than Alex and he looked a little odd. It took Derek a second to realize why though in the dim light. Then he saw the reason. Derek pointed at his own eyebrows and said, "What's with the no eyebrows thing?"

Stephen chuckled, "Allergies. If I let them grow the dandruff makes me break out."

Derek shrugged, "So what're you doing here – in the dark?"

"This is my lab. I closed the windows so I could see the tree better. Just moved in a couple days ago. Haven't been able to move everything around yet though – nobody to help these past few days with it being so close to Christmas."

"Oh… yeah." Derek said, then pointed back at the evergreen. "Great tree."

"Thanks." Stephen said from his comfortable desk chair. "Just something I designed when the bombs started getting worse. Didn't know how long we'd be able to use real trees, so I made sure I'd always have something, even if it wasn't real."

"So why're you here for Christmas and not home?" Derek asked abruptly.

Stephen sighed. Derek thought it sounded a lot like his own sighs these past several hours.

"Not safe to travel that far." The young man replied. "I don't live nearby like a lot of the others. My home is in Russia – at least, it is now. My parents and sister moved there when the bombings started. They have a secure underground housing area near where Moscow used to be."

"Oh, yeah. I see why you wouldn't be able to get _there_. Can't fly anymore unless you're EDF, and driving would be hard with all the craters. Boats aren't really running to the mainland anymore either." Derek stepped back over to the tree and sat down beside it, studying the lights and decorations it wore.

"I can make you one if you want." Stephen said, "They're not hard to design."

Derek looked away from the tree, "Sure! My brother and I need _something_ to liven up that dorm room we're staying in."

"Your brother?" Stephen asked, "What's his name?"

"Alex Wildstar." Derek replied.

"Oh, you're Alex's brother." Stephen nodded, "I remember you now. I met you when you last came to visit him."

"Oh, right." Derek replied, vaguely remembering the young man now that Stephen mentioned it. "You were kinda off by yourself until Alex pulled you over to eat dinner with us."

"He's a good friend." Stephen said, remembering the encounter, "I never was one for socializing."

A silence fell between the two as Derek went back to staring at the tree, remembering Christmases at home with his parents and how much fun it had been to spend time with them – even the hard years when it hadn't been the most pleasant thing to be around his mom and dad. There was the time when his dad had gotten laid off a month before Christmas and he and Mom had fought the entire time, but… at least they'd been there. This year… they weren't.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Derek and he stood up and said, "Hey, you wanna move your stuff today? I've got time. I'm just waiting on Alex to get off duty."

Stephen looked back at the boy, stunned by the seemingly random offer of help. "Sure." He said, "But you don't have to do that."

"I know." Derek shrugged, "But where else am I gonna hang out? Everyone else has somebody to do stuff with."

Stephen smiled a little, and then got up out of his own chair. "Okay, then. I'll make you a Christmas tree, then we'll move some lab equipment."

* * *

 **Year: 2199; Date: December 25**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo**_ **somewhere outside our solar system**

The Christmas party onboard ship wasn't anything too elaborate. They all had pitched in a little bit to make the mess hall look just a bit more festive than it usually did. A few of the crew had made some paper chains to hand around the doors and viewports and there were some holiday displays on one side of the room. A couple people had even made red and green hats to wear for the gathering.

Derek and Mark had just finished an unsuccessful Hanukah game with Homer and were heading over to the Christmas display to get a closer look at it.

"This tree looks awfully familiar." Derek said, walking up to the Christmas tree and staring at it, noting the brilliant star that sat atop the short tree. "Don't remember where I've seen it before though"

"Well, I know _I've_ never seen it." Mark said, "Haven't seen a real tree in over ten years."

Derek reached out to touch one of the tree's branches. He lowered his hand and was astonished when it went right through the thing. "Hey! It's a hologram!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, it is." Sandor said, coming up behind the two young men.

"This is yours, isn't it." Derek said, pointing to the tree, a vague memory tugging at his brain.

"It is." Sandor nodded.

Derek stared first at Sandor, then at the tree, then back at Sandor, the memory finally rising out of his foggy childhood enough for him to grab it. "You made me one once."

Sandor looked at Wildstar oddly, "I don't think I remember that."

"You probably wouldn't." Derek shook his head and laughed at himself, "It was almost ten years ago. It was the first Christmas Alex and I spent without our parents. You remember – the day I helped you set up your lab."

Sandor contemplated this, his face blank as he thought back to his Academy days.

"Yeees…" he said slowly, "Yes, now that you mention it, I _do_ remember that day. Moving my lab was the only gift I got that Christmas, but it was one for which I was thankful for years afterwards." Sandor smiled. "I never did tell you 'thank you' for that."

"Me and Alex used that holographic tree you made us every year, then I used it when he graduated. It was the best gift I got my entire time at the Academy." Derek replied, "So you thanked me already by giving me that. I think I might still have it."

Mark looked at the two officers with a confused look, "So you two met before this trip?" he asked.

"Yeah." Derek said, remembering more about the odd science officer, "We met a few times. He was one of my brother's best friends at the Academy."

Sandor chuckled, "I'm sure there are many more onboard the _Argo_ who've met, but don't remember meeting." Then his face fell, "The bombings made the world a much smaller place after all."

"Ah, cheer up, Sandor. We'll make it back." Derek gave the XO an uncharacteristically friendly slap on the shoulder, "And the world'll get back to being a bigger place when we do."

At this Sandor nodded. "Yes, Wildstar. I'm sure it will."


	5. Star

**Star**

 **Year: 2188**

 **Setting: Lake Seminole, Georgia, USA**

"I got one! I got one!" A young Chris Eager exclaimed as he fought to reel in the biggest bass he'd ever seen. "Help me get 'im, Grandpa!"

"Held 'er steady, Chris, ma' boy." Grandpa held out a net to catch his grandson's fish. "There, now drop 'im in."

The boy eased the fish down into the offered net. The fish flopped around, flailing until it was hopelessly caught in the net's web.

"Looks like we're eatin' good tonight." Grandpa said, admiring Chris's catch. "Wish I'd been the one to catch one this big, but oh well. I've caught my share, I reckon." He grinned at his grandson. "I s'ppose we can head back to camp now."

"Yeah!" Chris agreed, scrambling to get all the fishing gear together so they could get back and cook supper. It was starting to get late and his stomach was grumbling. "Dad said he'd help us cook when we get back."

"Slow down there, sonny." Grandpa called as Chris ran down the trail, arms filled with fishing gear. "Don't wanna trip and fall."

Chris slowed down and waited for Grandpa to catch up. The old man patted Chris on the shoulder when he finally reached the boy. "It's good to be eager, ma' boy, but sometimes rushin' gets ya into more trouble than ya wanna have."

"Okay, Grandpa." Chris replied.

"Now, let's get ourselves back to camp."

"Look what I caught, Dad!" the boy showed off his prize fish.

"I haven't seen a fish that nice in years." Dad replied, admiring the freshly-caught bass. "Not since your momma and I…" Dad's face fell.

"No good dwellin' on the past, Jim." Grandpa said. "Maggie wouldn'ta wanted that. You an' Chris are everything she wanted in a family."

"I just wish she'd had a little more time." Dad said slowly, then ruffled his son's brown hair. "I wish you'd known your momma a little better, son."

"Well, let's get ta cookin'." Said Grandpa. "Haven't got all night to clean these nice fish here."

Without another word, all three got to work on the fish.

It took an hour or so of work on everyone's part, but soon, three large bass were roasting over a fire-pit. The smell of cooking fish made Chris's mouth water as he waited for their dinner to be done.

His stomach growled.

"Almost ready." Grandpa announced. "Jim, get that can a' beans open. Can't go campin' without baked beans."

"Sure, Gramps." Dad dug out the beans and popped open the can.

"Fish're done." Grandpa said, pulling the skewered fish away from the campfire. He handed Dad and Chris their fish, then took his before plopping a healthy amount of beans on his plate and doing the same for Chris and Dad. "Eat up, boy." He said to Chris. "This's the best camp dinner you'll ever get."

Chris nodded and shoveled a spoonful of beans into his mouth. It had been a while since he'd had these. They tasted different than he remembered, but he wasn't sure exactly why.

He took a bite out of his fish and was delighted to find that the meat was fluffy and flavorful, just like Grandpa promised.

Once they were all done eating, Chris helped clean up what little was left of the food before heading off to bed.

He crawled into his sleeping bag and zipped it up to keep the cool night air out.

As he lay on his back looking up at the stars, he wondered, as he often did, what was out there beyond the atmosphere. The thick trees here around camp were too close together for him to get a good look at the sky above. He wished he could see the stars better.

Then a thought came to him.

Chris sat up and looked around for Dad and Grandpa. Dad was snoring and Grandpa was asleep already too.

Unzipping his bag, Chris quietly crawled out of his bed and slipped on his shoes. He grabbed his jacket and took off down another trail that he'd hiked with Dad and Grandpa two days ago.

The air was getting colder and Chris thought he smelled rain, but he pressed on.

It took two hours in the dark to find his way back to the place he remembered, but when he got there, he didn't regret coming.

Stretching out before him was a vast sky of stars, clear and twinkling with all the beauty he'd known it would hold. And there were no trees to block his view.

"Wow…" Chris whispered as he sat cross-legged on the ground and stared out at the stars.

He reached out as if to touch one.

"I wonder where you are, little star? Are you close by anyplace interesting? Are there cool things close to where you are?" He asked the glowing speck.

"When I grow up, I wanna see everything out there. I wanna see the stars, the comets, nebulas, all that stuff." He said to the star. "I wanna fly through space and discover stuff that nobody has before. And when I find somethin' really _really_ pretty, I'm gonna name it after Momma. I think she'd like that."

The star did not answer, but Chris didn't need it to.

"Yep, that's what I'm gonna do." He repeated.

A cold wind picked up, tugging at Chris's jacket.

"Better get back, I guess." He said to himself, then stood and wandered back down the trail to where his Dad and Grandpa lay sleeping.

* * *

 **Year: 2199**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo,**_ **somewhere between Balan and Iscandar**

Chris Eager sat back in his seat. Nothing much had happened since everything went down at Balan. They hadn't changed course in days and there weren't any stellar phenomena that needed analyzing. There was, essentially, nothing for him to do right now.

He sighed and stared at his duty station.

Several hours passed this way with nothing to do. He was just about to ask Sandor if there was something the science team needed help with down on the third bridge.

One of his monitors lit up, calling for his attention.

"Unidentified phenomena." The monitor read.

Eager changed the display to the video feed.

The image that appeared made his eyes widen in surprise.

He stared at the picture for a long time, taking in every detail of the image.

It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in their entire trip thus far.

"Hey, Sandor, whadda you make a' this?" He called the science officer over to his duty station.

"Hmm." Sandor said, leaning over Eager's shoulder to take a closer look at the image. "I didn't know something like that existed. Where is it?"

"Few thousand light-years away, looks like." Eager replied. "Probably don't have time to go look at it now, but maybe one day we can come back through here and really look at it proper."

"Well, I suppose it'll need to be logged if we're to remember it well enough to return." Sandor said. "Catalogue it in the database."

Eager nodded, thrilled to finally have something to do.

He studied the celestial wonder, noting everything that his eyes or the ship's sensors could tell him from this distance.

He carefully recorded it all in the ship's computer. Finally, everything was logged. He was just about to close the file when he noticed the name the system had assigned to the phenomena, "Y-098."

" _What kind 'a name is that?"_ He thought, shaking his head at the machine's naming convention. _"You're too pretty to have a name like 'Y-098.' Nope, from now on, you have a new name, one that'll suit ya much matter."_

Eager selected the name field in the computer record and erased the generic name, inputting the new one instead. "Margaret."


	6. Vacation

**Vacation**

 **Year: 2193**

 **Setting: EDF Academy, Great Island, Japan**

"Sweet!" Jordan Dashell burst through the door to the domed soccer field and rushed down to the astro-turfed arena. He flung himself on the ground and rolled in the prickly grass, laughing. He sprang to his feet as his best friend, Chris Eager, hurtled past, kicking a soccer ball toward the goal at the far end of the field.

Dash leapt to his feet and sprinted for Chris. He caught up, catching the ball deftly with his feet and flipping it up over the other boy's head. Dash squealed to a halt and changed direction. He dribbled the ball back down the field and with a well-aimed kick sent it sailing into the net.

"And he scores!" Dash ran around the field, arms raised in triumph.

"Not fair!" Chris protested. "You didn't say we were playing."

"Didn't think I had to." Dash socked Chris in the arm.

"Whatever," Chris dismissed. "Cool field."

"Yeah. I haven't seen one this nice in a long time. Everything around where we live is…" Dash's face fell.

"Yeah… stinks," Chris agreed. "The only field near my house was hit last week."

Dash retrieved the soccer ball and followed Chris to the equipment room. The two boys stared at the pristine rows of balls, uniforms, cleats, and anything else you could ever need to play any game you wanted.

"Whoa…" Dash admired a brand-new soccer ball. Each patch was still perfectly glossy.

"So, what do you think?" Mr. Dashell entered behind Chris and his son. "Is this a place you could spend some time in?"

"Yeah, Dad! This is the best!" Dash replied. "But why would I be spending a lot of time here? I mean, I love soccer and all, but I wouldn't want to live on the field."

Mr. Dashell chuckled, "No, Jordan – not the field, the school. This is quite a place. Your mother and I think it's a good fit for you, but I want you to feel that way too before we make our decision."

"Oh…" Dash's face fell again. "It's just – I'm only thirteen. Why do we have to think about this now?"

"You can register here in two years," Jordan's father replied. "There's a waiting list, and if you don't make up your mind now, you might not be able to get in."

"But… why do I have to go somewhere like this? Why can't I go to trade school like Chris is going to?" Dash glanced over at his friend.

His father sighed. "Jordan, you know we need as many people in combat training as possible. It's your duty."

The boy eyed the soccer ball again. "But I don't want to fight…"

"I know." Mr. Dashell laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't think of it as fighting. Think of it as defending your home – your family. If I could fight," he gave his wheelchair a pat. "You wouldn't catch me staying earth-side."

Dash's heart throbbed in his ears as he stared at his father's useless legs. "I know, Dad…" he murmured. "It's just that… I won't know anyone here. Nobody back home is going into something like this. Everyone's staying close to take care of their families. Who's going to help you and Mom?"

"Don't worry about us, Jordan. We'll be alright."

"Dash…" Chris hesitantly tapped his friend's arm. "I didn't want to tell you, because I thought you'd be mad…"

"Tell me what?" Dash asked.

"I'm… not going to trade school. Dad, Grandpa and I already talked about it and I'm coming here when I turn fifteen." Chris kept his eyes on the baseball equipment stashed in the corner.

"Really?" Dash's face lit up.

"Yeah…" Chris hesitantly glanced up at his friend. "Sorry I didn't tell you."

"That's awesome!" Dash pumped his fist in the air. "What are you going to study?"

"Stellar cartography, or something like that," Chris replied. "But I heard online that the gunnery division is looking for a lot of new people. You should give that a try. I think you'd be good at it. You're a crack-shot with knives. It can't be too much different – might even be easier to learn how to shoot."

"Gunnery isn't just learning how to hit a target," Mr. Dashell said. "It's learning how to use your eyes, how to see what's coming and be able to adjust to the situation. And there's a lot of maintenance involved in being on a gunnery team – especially if you end up manning a turret. You think you're up for something like that?"

"So… it's not just about fighting?" Dash asked.

"Not by far," his father replied. "You're not going to school to learn how to brutally kill someone. You're learning how to be smart about defending other people."

Dash bit his lip, picked up a soccer ball and rubbed the shiny surface, making a squeaking noise with his thumb. "As long as Chris is going to be here… I think I can do it." He set the ball back down. "Is it time to go get dinner yet? I'm starving."

* * *

Dash watched the young men and women below, enraptured with their seamless movements. The class was doing drills today and he and Chris had permission to watch from the observation area.

Everyone worked so well together. If any of them didn't like one another, there was no way of telling it. The team fed rounds into dummy turrets so fast Dash felt like his head was spinning.

"How do they do that?" he whispered.

"Lots of practice I guess," Chris replied.

"Enjoying yourselves?" the instructor asked, slipping into the booth.

"Yep," Dash replied. "How did they get so good at this?" He pointed down to the class.

"It takes months, even years of discipline to learn a role like this. Anyone can feed ammunition, but it takes a special team to work together under pressure. This is just a drill, but what happens when you're out on your first mission and run into the enemy? How are you going to respond to that? I've seen grown men crack – run away and cower in the corner, whimpering that they don't want to die." The instructor sat down and leaned forward, his eyes far away. "We haven't been in this conflict very long… and already we've lost so many… I was one of the ones who responded to the first bombing. It was the worst thing I've ever seen… You expect the carnage – the death, but," he glanced over at Dash and Chris. "You don't expect the terror. I knew the survivors would be afraid. Who wouldn't? But I didn't know just _how_ afraid…" The instructor shook noticeably.

"It was… that bad?" Dash gulped.

"I can't even begin to describe it," the man replied. "If only we'd known it was coming, perhaps we could have prepared – taken away some of the uncertainty. Maybe we could have saved some lives."

All three observers fell silent. Dash focused on the men and women below as they transitioned from loading drills to target practice using a simulation program. Above them, a huge screen displayed the enemy ships. One by one each plane was picked off, but Dash was dismayed to see the time.

"We're not good enough…" the instructor whispered. "With times like that we'll never make it. The enemy hasn't come for us yet, but I know they will. That's why this facility exists – to prepare for that eventuality." He laughed mirthlessly. "We don't even know what to call them. We prepare to fight a nameless foe with armaments we can never overcome them with…" He held his face in his hands. "I just don't know…"

Dash's stomach turned. He thought about all the people back home affected by the bombings – his dad, his friends, and so many others. He couldn't let them die without a fight.

"I'm going into the gunnery division," Dash said to the instructor.

"Really?" The man looked up. "We could use more people. How old are you? Twelve?"

"Thirteen," Dash replied proudly. "I'm coming here as soon as I can."

"New recruits don't qualify for this particular class. You'll have to take several other things before you can join us here, but we'll be more than happy to have you once you do that."

Dash glanced down at the students and realized how much older they looked than he'd first realized.

"No one here is under eighteen," the instructor supplied.

"But if someone _were_ to qualify before they turned eighteen, you'd take them?"

"Without a second thought," the man replied. "We need everyone we can get."

"Save a spot for me," Dash said.

"I'll do that," the teacher said as he slipped back out of the observation booth.

"You really want to do this? You're not just saying it?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Dash nodded. "I want to do this."

* * *

 **Year: 2200**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo**_ **, nearing Keshet**

"You're not getting by me again," Chris planted himself in the center of the goalposts, spreading out as far as he could to block the net they'd set up at one end of the gym in the fitness center.

"Wanna bet?" Dash yelled, winding up for the kick. The ball sailed in a perfect curve, whizzing toward Eager's freckled face.

At the last second, Chris's hand shot up and knocked the ball away.

"Yeah!" Eager shouted triumphantly. "Blocked you again!"

"Fine, you win." Dash threw up his hands in defeat. "Let's get this picked up. Sandor'll have our hides for setting it up in the first place if he finds out."

Eager waved him off. "Nah, he'll be fine. We've been cooped up on this ship for almost five months. He can't blame us for getting a little antsy."

Dash didn't say anything as he helped Chris take apart and put away the net. After a quick shower they both changed back into their uniforms and headed for the bridge to start their shift.

"You ever regret this?" Dash asked.

"What? Taking up soccer? No, but I wish I hadn't quit playing after my first year at the Academy." Eager eyed his chubby frame.

Dash chuckled. "Not that, genius. I meant going to the Academy in the first place. Do you remember that trip we took with my dad? It was supposed to be a vacation – at least, that's what he told me before we left."

"Well, it wasn't exactly boring," Eager replied. "As I recall, you raved about that trip for months when we got home. Everybody kept asking you about what it was like and you went on and on about how you were joining the gunnery division – which you conveniently forgot to mention was _my_ idea."

They stepped into another crowded hall.

"Ah, shift change," Dash sighed. "Can't say I'm going to miss this when we get back."

"It's just like the breaks between classes – just with people you actually know." Eager slipped by Jackson Hardy, a Tiger pilot, heading in the opposite direction.

"You didn't answer my question though," Dash said as he crowded into an elevator with Chris and several others. "Do you ever regret it?"

Chris shook his head vehemently. "Not for a second. You?"

"I can't really say I've ever thought about it, but I don't think I do." Dash adjusted his glasses.

The elevator door slid open, allowing several occupants to exit and two more to get on.

"I mean, what's to regret. We're still alive, aren't we? We've gotten to see things no one on Earth can even imagine," Dash continued.

Chris's face fell. "But we're about to dive into a battle. Who's to say whether we'll make it out?"

"We haven't come this far to get ourselves killed inside some rainbow gas cloud." Dash clapped Chris on the back. "I know I didn't."

Murmurs of agreement sounded from the rest of the elevator's occupants.

"Am I scared we might not live through this? Oh yeah," Dash admitted. "But there's a big difference between being scared and being a coward, right Clemens?"

"Oorah!" came the spirited reply.

Eager nodded. "I know you're right, but I'm still dreading it."

"We all are," Dash admitted, looking around at the others. "But we're going to push through this. That Gamilon task force has no idea what they got themselves into when they challenged us to a fight."

The elevator hissed open and everyone except Chris and Dash filed out. Clemens gave them a salute as he left.

They rose to the bridge. Just as the pair arrived, the first colorful cloud of Keshet came into view.

Dash took his seat and stared out into the void. No matter what they were about to walk into, he was ready.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The last portion of this story takes place between chapters fifty-nine and sixty of "Cure Seekers."

The next story in this collection, "Journey," featuring Mark Venture will post on or before June 27th. As usual, if you're ever wondering about the update schedule, or what's happening in this corner of the world, just hop on over to my profile page.

Happy writing and reading,

*dtill359


	7. Journey

**Journey**

 **Year: 2192**

 **Setting: Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.A.**

Mark tapped his foot on the hospital floor. The sharp sound grated on the other occupants' ears and they stared at him. He tried to stop, but every time he thought about something else, his foot went right back to tapping.

He was going to be a big brother.

The clock moved so slowly. He and his parents arrived five hours ago, and so far, his dad hadn't come back out to tell him anything. He didn't have any relatives living nearby who could take him back home, so he was stuck waiting in the company of strangers.

"Whatcha hear for?" Another kid plopped down beside Mark.

"My mom's having a baby," he replied, looking over to see a short, thin boy, around his own twelve years of age. The boy's skin was much darker than Mark's. His black hair was short, and his deep, brown eyes shone happily.

"I'm Timothy." The other boy stuck out his hand. "Timothy Alori*."

Mark stared at the offered hand, then shook it. "Mark Venture. Do you go by 'Tim'? Or 'Timothy'?"

"Definitely 'Timothy,'" the boy replied. "So, you gettin' a little sister? Or a brother?"

"Brother," Mark replied. "His name's Jordan, but we're going to call him 'Jordy.'"

"I'm gettin' a sister," Timothy announced. "Mama got here last night. I've been waitin' here ever since."

"Is your dad back with her?" Mark asked, looking around the room, trying to spot the boy's other parent.

"Nah," Timothy hung his head. "Daddy… died in one of the bombings a couple months ago. Since then it's just been me an' Mama. Now I'm gonna have Lily to look out for too."

"You want to go get something to eat downstairs?" Mark asked as his stomach grumbled.

Timothy eyed the door to the waiting room, "I dunno. Mama might call me back. I wanna be here when she does."

"Okay." Mark looked around the room again. "You want something from the vending machine? Dad gave me the food card in case I got hungry."

Timothy gave the lines of sandwiches and snacks a long look but shook his head. "Nah, I'd better not. Our food money doesn't get loaded until tomorrow, and we've only got a few dollars left right now. Our amount got cut pretty bad when Daddy died."

"Come on." Mark stood up and beckoned the other boy over to the machine. "I'm buying. Pick what you want."

"I couldn't do that. It's your money," Timothy protested as he went over to Mark.

"Mom and Dad add extra every month just in case. We never need all of it. Come on. Please? I hate eating all by myself." Mark tapped the card against the front of the machine and picked a peanut butter sandwich and some dried bananas.

"You sure about this? I don't wanna get you in trouble or anything."

"You're not going to get me in trouble," Mark replied. "Now pick something so we can get back to our seats. I don't want anyone else taking them."

Timothy glanced back over his shoulder at the chairs they'd been sitting in. They were perfectly situated out of the way of incoming traffic, and from them you could see everything going on in the waiting room. Timothy sighed and made his selections – a ham and Swiss with some crackers.

Both boys got water from the dispenser on the other side of the room and trekked back to their seats.

They talked as they ate, discovering they had a lot in common.

"You wanna go to the Academy? Really? I do too!" Timothy exclaimed around a cracker. "What division you thinkin' about?"

"I dunno," Mark took another bite of his sandwich. "Maybe engineering, but I'm not really excited about that. Or I might do navigation. That sounds really interesting. What about you?"

"Gunnery – definitely. Mama says I shouldn't look too far ahead, but I can't help it. I mean, I'm almost thirteen. It would be so great to be able to go! I just know that's what I'm supposed to do. Don't you ever sit down and then somethin' hits you – like, you realize somethin' really important?"

Mark shook his head. "Can't say I do."

"Well, I do," Timothy replied. "It just – you know – I know what I've gotta do. Daddy was like that – always sure of himself. He was a supervisor for one of the construction crews working on the underground cities. He always looked at me and said, 'Now, listen here, Timothy. People need a place to live, and I'm gonna build them the safest place you can imagine.' He got asked to head up projects a lot, so he wasn't home much, but he was just doin' his best for me and Mama. Can't fault a man for that."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, Mom used to be gone a lot too. She worked for one of the transit lines."

"Like a stewardess?" Timothy asked.

"No. She was one of the managers – made sure all the lines stayed running on time, sent out mechanics to fix the broken ones – all that stuff. Everybody sent us cards and e-mails when she left."

"That's really cool," Timothy said. "What's your Pop do?"

"Dad? He does something with money – I don't really know. He doesn't talk about it much, just goes to work every day and comes home looking sad," Mark replied. "He was really happy today though. Since we're here he doesn't have to go to work."

"I don't wanna hate my job," Timothy mused as he finished his food. "I wanna be able to go do something I love. That's why I'm goin' to the Academy."

"Yeah…" Mark said thoughtfully. "Me too."

"Marcus Venture?" The door with the big "Do not enter" sign on it opened and a nurse stepped out. "Marcus Venture?" she called again.

"Gotta go," Mark gave Timothy a fist-bump. "Thanks for eating with me."

"Thanks for buying." The other boy grinned. "Hope you like your brother."

Mark waved to Timothy as he followed the nurse through the door and up to his mother's room. The second he stepped in, he saw Jordy.

"He's teeny," Mark said, coming over and tapping the baby's nose.

"He won't stay that way for long," his mother said. "And I know he's going to adore you."

"Really?" Mark asked. "How do you know that?"

His mother smiled and pulled him in close. "Because the moment I met you, I adored you too."

"Mooom!" Mark blushed and pulled out of her hug but didn't step away. He looked at his dad, sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. Mark saw the worry lines in his face and the white streaks starting to invade his hair. Today he looked much more relaxed than usual, but there was still that edge in his eyes – the dread of having to walk into work tomorrow and battle through one more day doing something he hated.

He looked at his mother's face. She wore marks like his father's – lines and wrinkles that shouldn't have been there. Then he watched Jordy, asleep. The baby's face was so peaceful. He didn't have any cares at all; he didn't even know what kind of world he'd been born into.

Mark thought about all the other kids dealing with losing family and friends. He'd known several people who lost their lives in the bombings, but at least none of them were his family.

"Mom…?" Mark whispered.

"Yes, dear?" she replied.

"Do you think that… maybe one day… everything will be back to the way it was? I mean – maybe in the future, we can fix all the problems the bombs are causing – or even stop them from falling. Maybe we can –"

His mother laid a finger over his lips. "I don't know, sweetheart." She shook her head. "But, for now, just be happy with what we have." She turned her attention back to Jordy.

Mark nodded. "Okay…" But as he looked down at his little brother, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility.

He wanted Jordy to be able to walk around the park without wondering if a bomb was going to fall nearby; wanted him to have friends he didn't have to be afraid would die; wanted him to know what it felt like to be safe.

Mark imagined everything the way it used to be, and his lip trembled as he held back tears. The world was broken. He had to fix it – for Jordy.

* * *

 **Year: 2200**

 **Setting: Scottsbluff, Nebraska, U.S.A.**

Mark held his breath as he watched Sandor activate the Iscandari machine. The whole science team clustered around the officer, blocking Mark's view of the activation sequence.

He closed his eyes, whispering under his breath, hoping the machine would do what Queen Starsha promised – set the world right again.

He wanted so badly to see the grass growing green again instead of the toxic, red clay that now blanketed the Earth. A commotion came over the radio and he opened his eyes. Sandor was standing next to the machine with his helmet off.

Mark was taken aback. Exposure to the high radiation usually meant a quick death. Then he saw something else. Right next to Sandor's foot was a tiny green sprout. It didn't wilt or fade, but slowly grew, reaching up toward the sky.

Mark looked up. Dark clouds formed above them, and he heard thunder through the mic. Several of the science team unfastened their helmets and slid them off. Mark released his helmet's seal and heard the air seep out. He set it on the ground.

Seconds later, the patter of rain settled around him. It was the first rain he'd seen on Earth in over three years. Tears of joy mixed with the rain drops and streamed down his face.

Mark sank to his knees in disbelief as he watched the dead soil teem with life. Grass crawled up through the cracks in the ground and flowers poked their heads into view. He caught a flash of blue and spied a flower much like the ones that dotted Iscandar's pristine landscapes.

From inside his pocket, the shard of Iscandarium Starsha gave him poked at his leg and Mark took it out. He held up the keepsake, staring at it intently for several minutes. The Queen had given it to him when Mark told her about his little brother, still back on Earth.

"He has great faith, your brother. This is for him," she'd said. "So he'll always remember the journey you made to help save your world."

The piece's blue and green tones swirled together, almost as if the colors were moving within the stone. Sparkling, golden streaks stared back at him.

He tucked the shard away again, so he wouldn't lose it. He didn't know when he'd get home. Injured crew members needed to get to Central Hospital, near EDF headquarters, but after that… What were they going to do? Their mission was over.

Mark stood up and turned a full circle, taking in the quickly changing scenery. The overwhelming urge to shout for joy took him and he let out a whoop. It echoed across the open area as others took it up, pumping triumphant fists in the air.

Miki Saijo, Nova's fill-in for the radar station, fell to her knees near Mark and sobbed. He couldn't tell what she was saying as she slipped into Japanese, but he caught her husband's and son's names.

More crew piled out of the ship, streaming into the field as the rain continued to softly fall.

"You can see the difference already," Derek said, coming up behind Mark. "It even smells more like home now."

Mark sucked in a deep breath. Just as his friend said, the familiar smells of rain and grass came to him – smells he remembered from when he was a kid. "I can't believe how much I missed this…" he breathed.

"Yeah… me too," Derek echoed. "Well, you wanna go jump in some mud puddles or something? We've all got a lot of experiences to catch up on now that we've got Earth back. She'll take some time to heal completely, but… at least the nightmare's over now."

Mark smiled. "I think I'll skip the mud, but I wouldn't mind a long walk around the field. Think Nova would want to come?"

"I'll go get her." Derek disappeared.

Mark stared up into the stormy sky again and closed his eyes as another wave of relief washed over him.

They were safe now. No more bombs, no more attacks from Gamilon. Everything was as it should be.

His little brother's face appeared in his mind's eye and he whispered to the phantom, "Don't ever take this for granted, Jordy. Live every day like it's your last…"

"You ready?" Derek tapped Mark's shoulder. "Who you talking too?"

"Oh…" Mark opened his eyes. "No one. Just thinking."

"Let's go see what's over there." Nova pointed to a cluster of saplings on the other side of the field. They hadn't been there a few minutes ago.

The three set off, a new lightness in their step that Mark hoped would never go away again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 ***** Alori – pronounced Al'-orh-ee

The next story in the collection is called "Graduation" and features both Adam and Abraham Avatar.

See you all next week.

Happy reading and writing,

*dtill359


	8. Graduation

**Graduation**

 **Date: June 1, 2195**

 **Setting: EDF Academy, Great Island, Japan**

Abraham Avatar sat with the rest of the attendees, straining to see his son as Adam went up to receive his captain's rank. The old captain's heart rose in his throat. It seemed like just yesterday his son was running around the ho use, chasing his little sister with a model plane and making his own engine noises.

If only Jennifer could be here to see this…

He pulled out a tiny, worn photo of his daughter. Jen looked so much like her mother, with her straight brown hair and happy eyes. At the thought of his wife, tears welled up in his eyes. She would have loved to see this too.

Abraham looked up in time to see Commander Singleton, head of the EDF, pin on Adam's rank. He smiled as his son returned to his seat, now a captain.

On down the line the awards went until, at last, Alex Wildstar, last in line, was given his new title.

Charles Singleton… Abraham watched the other man, standing at the front of the assembly. He was only a few years younger than Abraham. He remembered the conversation he had with Charles back when Singleton was appointed head of the defense committee.

Those were trying days. They'd struggled to find men and women willing to captain ships that hadn't been built yet. Earth didn't even have a substantial space presence back then. A few satellites, the Hubble, and some other in-orbit stations were the extent of humanity's venturings.

Then the bombs came.

So many people lost loved ones in those first few days and weeks – he and Charles included.

Singleton declared the end of the rank bestowment. Abraham stood with the rest of the audience and applauded. He was glad Adam decided to enlist – help in this crisis, but part of him always worried about his son's safety. No one knew what tomorrow would bring – or who would live through it.

As everyone filed out, Abraham waded through the sea of people toward his son.

* * *

 **Date: August 18, 2199**

 **Setting: EDF Headquarters, Great Island, Japan**

"I'm assigned to the _Yukikaze_ ," Adam said. "But I'm the navigator, not the captain. Wildstar was picked for that."

Abraham frowned. "Not enough ships… First, we couldn't find the manpower to run our fleet, now the ships can't handle the influx of crew." He hung his head. "If it weren't for…" He laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "If it weren't for those precious, few words… I would have lost hope a long time ago…"

"'While the earth remaineth,'" Adam supplied, "'seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease. *' I know, Dad. It keeps me going too. We'll get out of this. We'll win at Pluto. We have to."

"Don't pin all your hopes on one battle, Adam," Abraham cautioned. "The enemy is strong – much stronger than we are. They won't be defeated in one blow."

"But the information we're going to get –"

"Is irrelevant unless someone lives to use it," Abraham interrupted.

"We _will_ live to use it," Adam replied, determined. "We'll see to it that the information we get from that battle is put to good use, and then we'll get rid of those interlopers! They won't live to hurt anyone else again."

Abraham looked sharply at his son. "Killing is never the first option," he scolded. "If we can find a way to settle this without any more deaths, we must."

"They don't want that," Adam protested. "They've murdered our people, destroyed our planet. What else could they want but more blood-shed?"

"There is always a side to war that no one knows," Abraham countered. "We don't know why they're trying to kill us."

"Because they're monsters." Adam's eyes welled up with tears. "They killed Mom, then Jen, and thousands – millions more. They just want us all dead!"

Abraham hugged his son, his own tears falling into his snowy beard. "I know that's what it looks like," he choked. "And I want to end this war just as much as you do, but I have to listen to what my conscience tells me. And it says there's something else going on here – something we can't see."

"Your conscience is going to get you killed, Dad," Adam said. "Promise me one thing." He pulled out of his father's embrace and met his sad gaze. "If you have the chance to survive – you take it, even if you're the only one to make it out alive."

Abraham hesitated. "I don't think I can promise that, Adam."

"Well, what if the ones who died, did so willingly? Could you do it then?"

Abraham frowned. "I don't know…"

"Just… please think about it. Pluto is coming. We have to win – at any cost."

Abraham thought about his son's words, then said, "'For God hath not given us the spirit of fear…'*" He looked into Adam's worried face. "I'm afraid, son, but I know that fear is not of God. Your fear isn't either. If you lose me, you will be alright, and so will I. Don't ever be so afraid of losing someone that you fall into despair because of it."

Adam hung his head. "I know, Dad… It's just… so hard. We're the only ones left… Mom… Jen… cousins, Grandma and Grandpa… They're all gone." He swiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I know…" Abraham put his arms around his son again. "And I want to be sure you'll be alright during this coming battle too. Alex Wildstar is a good captain."

"One of the best," Adam managed, choking down his sadness. "He's a good friend."

"I'm glad you two met, even if he is a questionable pilot. You watch his back," Abraham instructed. "A friend like him is irreplaceable."

"I will, Dad," Adam said. " _Yukikaze_ is the safest place I could be at Pluto. Don't worry about me."

* * *

 **Date: September 9, 2199**

 **Setting: Onboard the Earth flagship 227**

Abraham was frozen in horror as he heard Alex's words. "Wildstar, no!" he pleaded. The red emergency lights bathed Abraham's bridge in an eerie crimson.

"We've all decided, Captain. We're doing this for our home, for those we've spent our lives protecting – our spouses, children, parents, friends. They're all our responsibility," Wildstar said.

Main power flickered back on.

"We're sending you the information from the enemy ships now. Take it home, Captain, then come back to Pluto and kick these parasites out of our solar system." The next few seconds of dead air felt like an eternity. "I'll see you later, Captain."

Abraham stared helplessly as his son's ship ploughed right into the enemy fleet, shooting every ship it could get a target lock on. Several enemy ships went down, but it wasn't enough. Energy blasts tore through the _Yukikaze._ Abraham's mouth went dry and his feet were numb.

Another blast shot through Wildstar's engine, and the _Yukikaze_ exploded in a ball of light.

"Get us out of here," Abraham rasped, holding back the wave of grief that threatened to overcome him.

Flagship 227 limped away, given time by the terrible sacrifice. Gnawing loss and heavy guilt settled on Abraham. If he'd retreated before now – if he'd made the fleet regroup and try another day – if they'd known more about this enemy before engaging them… maybe Adam would still be alive.

* * *

 **Date: October 7, 2199**

 **Setting: Onboard the Gamilon prison ship** _ **Yaash**_

Two men, their skin light blue, roared in Adam's face in a language he couldn't understand. His arms hung from chains fastened to the low ceiling, making his entire body scream for relief. His bound feet dangled just above the floor.

The gnawing ache in his stomach was eclipsed by the searing pain from the gashes lacing his back. How long had it been since they took him from the wreck of the _Yukikaze_? A day? A month? He couldn't remember – couldn't think past the pain.

He yelped at the powerful jolt of pain crashing through him as one of his captors' fists connected with his kidney.

"Please…" he begged. "I don't know what you want." His voice cracked as his parched throat cried out for water.

Adam's head snapped back as one of the men grabbed his hair and yanked, making him stare into the stranger's angry brown eyes. Again, the man hissed something in Adam's face.

"I don't understand," Adam choked again. "I can't tell you anything."

The man let go and Adam's chin dropped to his chest. He coughed, mouth desperately dry.

The second man withdrew an all-too-familiar object and Adam gritted his teeth. He closed his eyes and waited.

The first lash burned into his tortured skin. The second was just as painful. Adam counted the lashes, but by the time he reached thirty-five, his mind was too numb to go on. He didn't fight the gathering oblivion and slipped quietly into unconsciousness.

He awoke some time later to the smell of water. It brought him out of his muddled state enough to take a few sips from a small cup.

Adam didn't recognize the man who gave him the water. Like several of the crew, this man's skin was more like Adam's, if not several shades darker. He felt like he knew this man from somewhere else. It was a ridiculous thought. Still, the spark in the man's eyes rang familiar.

"Thank you," Adam whispered.

The man bowed and disappeared.

Twenty minutes passed before the interrogators returned, both brandishing whips this time. Adam's heart sank, and fear gripped him. He was going to die here. There was no possible way he could survive this captivity if they kept this up.

Pain coursed through him constantly now and his head throbbed. He felt like he would throw up.

One of the men shouted at him. Adam didn't even bother to say anything this time, just clenched his eyes shut and waited.

The promised beating came, and Adam didn't even try to hold in his screams of agony. He was too tired for resolve – too broken for willfulness. His body was a bloody mess as he hung on to life by one tiny thread, but even the small flame of hope in his heart was dwindling.

Adam's screams fell on deaf ears as his tormentors battered him. He didn't know how long the session lasted, only that he lost consciousness some time after one of them took a metal rod to his leg. The limb hung limply, broken in several places.

Adam saw the brutal rod rise again, but he never felt it hit as he succumbed to the darkness again.

He woke again to the quiet scent of water. The same man stood before him, cup in hand. Adam could barely swallow the water this time and his eyes were nearly swollen shut, but to his astonishment, his broken leg didn't hurt anymore.

"Who…" Adam struggled. "Who… are… you…?"

The man's deep brown eyes gazed back at him, and Adam's ragged breaths caught in his throat as he saw that same spark, but this time he realized what it meant.

"Are… you… an… angel…?" Adam choked.

"No, my brother. I AM.*" His voice was full and comforting. It surrounded Adam like an old friend, welcoming him into its light.

Adam couldn't find any words as he looked down at the Man's hands. One long sleeve was tugged up just enough to reveal part of an old scar just past His wrist.

Adam bowed his head, overwhelmed.

"Peace…" the Man breathed the word and the world stood still for a long moment. "Your work has yet to begin, Adam. Rest assured, it will not end just yet."

Adam dared to look at the Man again, but when he pried his aching eyes open again, He was gone.

The cell door rattled open and the same two men from earlier came in, each holding a rod, indignant sneers on their faces.

The first shook his rod at Adam and said something in a demanding voice.

When Adam didn't respond he reeled back to take a hard swing at the helpless man's back. Adam closed his eyes, fighting to remember his Visitor's face and words – the sound of His voice.

The blow never landed.

A piercing war-cry rent the air and Adam looked up just in time to see Alex careening through the door, bowling over both men. He grabbed the rod from one of them. The ringing of metal against bone stayed in Adam's ears. His tormentors lay unconscious on the cell floor.

"Let's get out of here," Alex said, fishing through the captors' clothes for the key to Adam's chains. He held it up triumphantly and unlocked Adam's feet first. When his arms fell free, he collapsed onto Alex.

"Whoa… You look… like a nightmare…" Alex said, horror on his face.

"Yeah…" Adam rasped. "You look… bad too…" He noted Alex too had several wounds, but most of his were bruising. Fresh blood coated the front of his shirt and Adam was dismayed to note the ashen shade of Alex's skin.

"The ship's gonna blow. We have to get out of here," Alex said, slinging Adam's arm over his shoulder and dragging him out of the cell. They headed down the corridor.

"'Your work has yet to begin…'" Adam whispered the words to himself.

"Huh?" Alex asked.

"Nothing…" Adam managed. "Let's… get out… of here."

In a few minutes they found the escape pods and climbed into one.

Adam slumped into unconsciousness the instant Alex set him down.

* * *

 **Date: August 29, 2200**

 **Setting: On Heroes' Hill**

Adam watched his father's burial in silence. Abraham Avatar was more a hero than anyone else Adam had ever known. Tears streamed down his face as he remembered the six months they had together aboard the _Argo_.

He'd told his father the story of how he and Alex escaped the Gamilon prison ship. It was fantastic – unbelievable, and he wouldn't have blamed his father if he didn't believe it, but his dad took in every word and listened with a knowing smile.

Now, that same Man who once offered Adam water was welcoming his father home.

He looked around the vast crowd. The whole crew of the _Argo_ was here, and EDF high command, not to mention his father's personal friends. Before he died, his father requested one of the _Argo_ 's officers – his engineer, Patrick Orion be the funeral officiant.

The old Irishman had agreed without a second thought

"– And on this hill, we remember the man whose faith led a ship of young, inexperienced men and women, and old coots like me, out to a place we didn't know existed a year ago. His courage is why we stand here today, in this circle of friends and family." Orion looked at Adam. "You have anything you want ta say, lad?"

Adam stepped up to the raised platform. "Captain Abraham Avatar – Dad… he believed Earth could be restored." Adam looked out over the ocean as it glistened in the twilight. "He had faith in a promise – and he held on to that promise until the end." Adam gestured to the green hill and the valley sloping below. "He often repeated that promise to me on the way back home. To him, it was like it was already fulfilled." Adam spied Nova in the front row of _Argo_ 's crew.

She nodded silently, crying, but a bright smile lit her face.

"Some of you know what I mean. If you saw my dad during his last few months, he would tell you how beautiful Earth was – how he could smell the rain, taste the sea's salt air, and feel the grass under his feet." He looked down at Dr. Sane's sad face as the little man shook his head. "He wasn't delusional. He had faith that those things would be so and standing here today…" Adam swallowed the knot in his throat. "All of that is true. I believe, if my father were standing here right now, I know what he would say." Adam closed his eyes and repeated one of his father's favorite pieces of the Bible, "'It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. *'"

Silence fell over the crowd.

"Where he is now," Adam continued. "Everything is right. We'll see trouble again… Whether it comes from out there," he pointed up at the darkening sky. "Or from down here on Earth. But there's one thing I know without a doubt – because I watched my father live its truth. This Earth will remain. No foe can strike it down – no force of nature can destroy it – and no whim of man can make it disappear." Adam bowed his head. "God, give us the strength to believe it, just like Abraham Avatar did."

* * *

 **Notes:**

* Genesis 8:22

* II Timothy 1:7

* Exodus 3:14

* Lamentations 3:22-24

 **Author's Note:**

The next post will be "Fortress of Evil" Chapter 1 on or before July 18th.


	9. Flame

**Flame**

 **Date: July 16, 2199**

 **Setting: EDF Underground Airbase, Great Island, Japan**

All around her, Feria Noble heard the racket of planes being washed and repaired. Only a few more squad members needed to straggle in before oh-eight hundred. She leaned against her silver plane, watching as her fiancé pulled something out of his flight-suit pocket.

"Here." Hinata held out a closed hand.

"What's this?" Feria reached out an open palm to accept his gift.

"I… couldn't get you anything else… and since I never gave you a ring…" He took her hand and laid the object in it.

Feria stared at the gift. It sparkled in the hangar lights – a small, red crystal, strung on a leather cord.

"Hinata… I…" Tears welled up in Feria's eyes as she clutched the carmine to her heart. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I had to let all those other flyboys know you're taken somehow," he said, gesturing all around them.

Feria eagerly fastened the carmine around her neck. She held the stone in her palm. It was beautiful, polished perfectly, unlike anything she'd seen in the underground cities. With the Earth in such dire straits, no one had the time for a craft like stone-cutting now, unless it was for industrial equipment.

"Where'd you get it?" she asked.

"Dad gave it to me when I was little. He found it on one of this expeditions on Mars. When he got home, he had it cut and set. He put it on this cord, so I wouldn't lose it – said it would always remind me of him if… something ever happened."

"Hinata…" Feria was speechless. "I can't take this from you."

"Yes, you can," he replied, closing her hand over the stone. "You're the woman I love. What's mine is yours. Now, it will remind me of my father _and_ my fiancée."

Feria tucked the carmine under her flight suit and zipped it up. She glanced at the time, displayed at the front of the hangar, oh-seven fifty-seven. She turned toward the conference room as other pilots trickled past. "I… have to go."

"I know," Hinata said. "I have to get back to my hangar too. There's supposed to be some big announcement today."

"I heard," Feria replied. "Any idea what it's about?"

"No," Hinata said. "But I think it has to do with the coming offensive."

"Maybe," Feria agreed. "I'll see you tonight." She gave Hinata a hug. "I love you."

"I love you too, Spitfire," he winked at her and let her go.

* * *

 **Date: September 9, 2199**

 **Setting: Pluto-space, near** _ **Yukikaze**_

"Get out of there!" Feria warned as two enemy fighters locked on to Hinata's plane.

Hinata jerked left, straying out of one fighter's laser spray and just under the other's.

"I'm on them," Feria said, targeting the first enemy craft. She shot true, sending the hostile spinning away, less a wing and half its tail.

"Get back to the ship," Hinata's voice crackled over the radio as the other plane continued to dog him. "Get the information to Captain Wildstar on _Yukikaze_. The flagship's data transfer system is down."

Feria tried to get a lock on the second enemy plane, but it was so fast. She got off a shot. Missed. She pushed her little fighter to its limit, screaming by the wreckage of her squad-mates' planes.

Hinata continued, "Two-twenty-seven is only getting video and audio messages, and not very well at that."

"I'm not leaving without you," Feria insisted, taking aim at the other plane again.

"No time," Hinata replied as three more hostiles appeared. "Take the information, Feria! We've sacrificed too much for this not to make it back to Earth."

She heard a soft blip as her computer finished the transfer from Hinata's plane.

Her throat went dry as four enemies swarmed in, locking on to Hinata's fighter. He sent his plane into a sharp climb, but they all stayed on him.

An explosion bloomed in Hinata's engine.

"Go!" The single word echoed through Feria's comm as her love's fighter exploded.

"Hinata!" Feria screamed into the radio. "Hinata, answer me!"

Nothing.

She ran, pushing her little plane through the debris fields, tears streaming down her face as she dodged scraps of silver and green fighters. Her vision blurred. She blinked it clear with a sob and bit her lip.

Two enemy planes were on her tail within a few seconds. Fear coursed through her. If Hinata couldn't outmaneuver them, what made her think she could?

Up ahead, she caught sight of the _Yukikaze_ , fighting to shield Captain Avatar's wounded flagship.

"Dragon Two to _Yukikaze_ ," she tried to raise the gunship.

Nothing.

Lasers streaked all around her, flashing violet-red. She cut right, heading for a listing enemy destroyer. The emerald hull loomed close. Half an instant before she ploughed into it, Feria yanked as hard as she could, zooming up a hair's breadth from the hull.

Her pursuers slammed into their own ship, rocking Feria's plane with the explosion.

She shook as she let out a relived sigh, still trembling as images of Hinata's plane flashed through her mind.

 _Yukikaze_ was still close. She darted back through the wreckage, avoiding the enemy capitol ships.

Pain stung her heart as her tears stubbornly kept coming. "This hurts more than I could have imagined," she whispered, feeling the cool touch of the carmine over her aching heart. "I love you, Hinata. I'm sorry we never got to do all the things we talked about or live the life we planned together."

Still weeping, she sped back toward her home ship, _Ryu_.

Her chest tightened as she approached _Ryu_ 's coordinates.

"Dragon Two to Dragon Lead," Feria tried to bring up her squadron mates. "Dragon Lead?" she tried again. "Four? You there? Jean?" Nothing. "Three?"

She took a deep breath. "The radio's down. That's all," she told herself as she whisked by the wreck of an EDF ship. She caught sight of the name emblazoned on its side, _Georgetown_. She bit her lip and kept going. Another wreck. _Luminia._

" _Ryu_ , this is Dragon Two," Feria tried to raise her ship on the radio again. No one answered. Then she saw it, another wreck up ahead.

Her breath caught in her throat as she came close enough to make out the name on the hull and the blazing head of a dragon.

"No…" she whispered.

She gritted her teeth and flew past the dead ship, recognizing the same emblem on half a dozen slagged fighters, drifting in pieces around _Ryu_.

Only a handful of enemy planes still wandered the debris. The rest had already returned to their ships.

"No one left to shoot down," Feria muttered bitterly through her tears.

She shot through the destroyers easily, dodging their laser blasts, aimed, not at her, but at the capitol ships. She felt like a fly caught in a whirlwind.

Feria checked her computer core. The information from Hinata was still safely there.

She concentrated on weaving through the next knot of enemies. Her radar told her _Yukikaze_ was still close by. If she could make it into transfer range, everything would be alright.

What was she thinking? Nothing was alright. Hinata was gone – her shipmates dead or dying, and the fleet…

"God, let me make it in time," she prayed. "Before they shoot me down."

Feria swept around a large enemy ship.

There it was, the _Yukikaze_ , engaging several enemies at once, but still standing.

"Dragon Two to _Yukikaze_ ," Feria tried her radio.

"Go ahead, Dragon Two," came the quick reply.

"Retrieval complete," she said. "Transferring data now."

"Transfer complete," came the reply several seconds later. "Proceed to the flagship."

"Roger that," Feria choked around another wave of grief.

She shot past _Yukikaze_ , headed for Captain Avatar's ship. When she found it, the flagship was smoking, listing to one side, but not out of the fight.

"Dragon Two, on approach," she hailed. The hangar door cracked open to receive her.

* * *

 **Date: October 1, 2199**

 **Setting: EDF Underground Facility #3, Nova Forrester's Quarters**

"I just… I can't believe he's gone…" Feria said, leaning over. "It's been almost a month since the battle and I – I can't get it out of my head." She held her face in here hands as she wept. "I miss him so much, Nova." She looked over at her friend, sitting next to her on the thin bunk. "I know he's not in any danger or pain now, but I can't help it."

"I know," Nova wrapped her arms around the other woman. "You loved him – you're going to miss him, Feria – maybe for a very long while."

Feria pulled out the carmine crystal and stared at it. "They sent me a draft invitation," she said.

"For the new ship?" Nova asked.

"The re-built _Yamato_ , yeah," Feria wiped some of her tears on her sleeve. "I don't know if I should take the position."

"They want you as a pilot?" Nova asked, pulling back to look at Feria.

"For the Black Tigers." Feria laid a hand over the patch on her jacket – a red dragon. "I don't know if I can just give it up, you know. I was with _Ryu_ for four years, Nova – _four years_. Those people were my family. That's where I met – Hinata," she choked.

"You don't have to do it, Feria. They'll understand. Earth still needs good people on other ships – on Earth even."

Feria chuckled mirthlessly. "What other ships?" she asked. "Two-twenty-seven? It can't even fly straight anymore. This long-shot is the only ship we really have."

"Do you know about the mission?" Nova asked.

"There was a briefing in my invite packet," Feria nodded. "A hundred and forty-eight thousand light-years one way is quite a haul… I don't know if it can be done."

"It has to be," Nova said, determination in her eyes. "There isn't another option."

"A miracle," Feria muttered.

Nova nodded. "I suppose, but where's the adventure in being handed a solution?" She smiled at her friend. "Besides, I've never know you to forgo an adventure."

Feria fingered her carmine. "No, I guess I haven't. Are you going?"

"I am," Nova said. "I know it's where I need to be. You coming?"

Feria sighed. "Yeah. I'll come." She smirked at her blonde-headed friend. "That pretty face is going to get you into trouble one of these days."

Nova smiled.

Feria clutched the crystal, the pain of loss lessened just a little, but still hanging on to her aching heart.

* * *

 **Date: August 24, 2200**

 **Setting: Onboard the** _ **Argo,**_ **Med Bay Room 2**

Feria opened the book on her tablet and started to read aloud, "'As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place.'" She glanced at Nova, still lying unconscious in bed. "You know, I never really understood why you liked this book so much until I read it," she whispered, stopping and taking Nova's hand. "There's just something about it… It's old, but the story's one that's been played out over and over."

She resumed her reading, but several minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Feria called.

The door hissed open and in stepped Peter Conroy, his flight jacket hanging loosely around his shoulders, hands in its pockets. "Hey."

"Hey," Feria replied.

Conroy took a seat on the other side of Nova's bed. "How's she doing?"

"Not any different," Feria sighed, setting her tablet down on the bedside table. "I wish I could do something else – something that would help her wake up."

"You are," Peter assured. "I'm sure she knows you're there, even if she can't say so. What were you reading to her?"

" _Pilgrim's Progress,_ " Feria replied. "She told me it was one of her favorites years ago. I only read it myself a few months back, but I see why she fell in love with it." Feria fingered her carmine as thoughts of Hinata rose unbidden and a sheen of tears covered her eyes. She looked away, hiding them from Peter as she tucked the stone back into her uniform.

"She'll be alright," Conroy said, seeing Feria's distress. "Once we get back to Earth, I'm sure there's something they can do for her."

"Yeah," Feria managed. "Yeah, I'm sure they can help her." She bit her lip. "I just… don't want to lose anybody else."

The two fell silent, both staring down at their unconscious friend and crewmate.

"Feria…" Peter began. "I – If – Whatever you decide to do when we get back to Earth, I'd be glad to have you on my squadron any time."

Feria met his eyes, noticing something in them she'd not seen before. "Thanks…" she said.

"I don't know what I would have done without you this past year. You helped keep everyone in check – more so than I did at times. Even Hardy backed off when you told him to."

Feria smirked. "I had two older brothers. And they were afraid of me before I was three." She smiled mischievously.

Peter laughed. "Remind me never to cross you."

"I wouldn't worry about that too much," she replied, noticing the weight of the carmine over her heart.

"Well… I just wanted to see how she was… and to tell you… that –" Peter hesitated. That same spark lighting up his eyes again. "– that I always enjoy your company, even back when we had to trek through the ship in the dark, with Starsha's hologram – that day that ship was possessed."

Feria smiled. "Yeah…"

Peter stood to go. "I'll see you later."

"See you," she replied as her squad leader left.

Feria pulled out the carmine again. That look in Peter's eyes… It reminded her of Hinata.

* * *

 **Date: August 31, 2200**

 **Setting: Peter Conroy's Apartment; Underground City; Chicago, Illinois, USA**

Peter stuffed his luggage back into his closet and took a long whiff of his musty apartment. He was back home – finally. A year was a long time to be away, and he hadn't realized until he'd stepped back inside the small space how much he missed it.

Everyone was moving back to the surface, helping rebuild. Several of the people in his neighborhood were already topside, but he was content to stay where he was for the time being.

He rummaged through the odds and ends he'd picked up as souvenirs along the way to and from Iscandar: a rock from the floating continent, a printed picture of him and Feria at the ship's Christmas party both wearing gawdy sweaters, one of the burnt-out wave motion engine components, and several other little things.

He set each token in its place, where visitors – what few he had – could see them.

He cleared out the rest of his belongings and sat down by the window. Opening the blinds, he gazed out into the underground city.

With a sigh, he picked up his worn, bound Bible and opened it. Something small clunked to the floor. He leaned over and picked up a sealed envelope. Puzzled, he looked for a name or address, but the envelope was blank.

He shrugged and tugged it open, thinking he'd left it there himself and forgotten about it. He pulled out a piece of paper, folded neatly in half. Noticing the slight bulge at the bottom of the envelope, Peter dumped the contents into his open palm.

He stared at the object in recognition and slowly opened the note.

 _Dear Peter,_

 _Our time aboard the_ Argo _is something I will never forget._

 _You said you didn't know what you would have done without me, but the same is true for me. I don't know what I would have done without_ you _._

 _When I was afraid, you were the one who told me everything would be alright. When I was sad, you were there to remind me that there was a brighter tomorrow just around the corner. When I was happy, you were right there with me, sharing in that happiness._

 _We walked through fires together, fought off enemies we shouldn't have been able to defeat, and saw things we can never explain to anyone else._

 _If there's ever another adventure I can take with you, I want to do it. You're an amazing person, Peter Conroy._

 _I've enclosed my carmine. You can give it back to me when we see each other again._

 _Your wing-man,_

 _Feria_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

The August 1st update will be _Seeker's Prayer_ , Chapter 1: No Man's Land.

As always, hope to see you next post.

*dtill359


	10. Plan

**Plan**

 **Onboard the** _ **Argo**_ **, inside the Gehenna's Bridge Jump-Gate**

 **July 14, 2200; 21:42, GST**

"What on Earth am I looking at, Royster?" Clemens ducked, as laser fire singed past his face.

"A little busy!" Royster screeched, tucking back into the maintenance alcove, clutching the borrowed rifle.

"I can't do this computer stuff, Nerd," Clemens growled from his seat on the cold floor. "Tell me what I'm doing, or we're gonna die here!" Clemens stared at the manual hatch lever, slagged to the door. He eyed the patch job snaking from the communicator in his hand to the door controls.

"Just tell it we're the admin. It'll open," Royster spouted back over his shoulder, then squealed as another bolt hissed by.

"What's an admin?" Clemens shot back.

"Ad-min-i-stra-tor!" Royster emphasized each syllable, bracing the gun against his shoulder. "Boss, leader, overlord, whatever you want to call it."

"I know what 'administrator' means," Clemens growled back. "I just don't speak computer like you and your buddies down in the lab. How do I tell it I'm its boss? Give me some air support here, Nerd."

"Just open the command line." Royster squeezed off another shot.

"The _what_?"

"It's –" Royster yelped again as the wall two inches from his head blackened and the acrid tang of smoke filled the alcove. "Just find it!"

Clemens clenched his one good fist as his broken right arm ached. His legs stung with multiple char-marks, and the dried blood on his neck tugged at his skin with every twitch.

"How do I get this thing to stop kicking back so hard when I fire it?" Royster rubbed his shoulder.

"It's called 'recoil' for a reason, Nerd," Clemens snapped, concentrating on the com screen.

Royster sucked in a shaky breath and struggled to heft the weapon again.

Clemens shot a glance back at Royster, whose sweaty hands kept slipping on the rifle grip.

The scientist adjusted his skewed glasses before ducking out and sending another rain of fire into the band of enemies.

Tapping several promising options and finding nothing, Clemens hissed at the device. Menus he'd never seen before popped up. "I can't _find_ it. Get over here and get whatever-you-said-before up, so I can use it!" Clemens demanded, slamming his fist into the wall.

Royster whirled around, startled, his finger stuttering on the rifle trigger.

Clemens yelped as an energy bolt whizzed by his face. The door controls sizzled and sparked as the com screen flashed blue and winked out, replaced by the reboot symbol.

"Are you _trying_ to kill us? What'd you shoot the door for?" Clemens kicked the wall. "Now I can't get into it at all." He let the communicator clatter to the deck plates between his shot-up legs. "It's more fried than a squirrel in a lightning storm." He pointed at the smoking control panel.

"Why'd you punch the bulkhead?" Royster retorted, hunkering down on the floor behind the wall lip.

An enemy soldier barreled into the alcove.

"Watch out!" Clemens shoved Royster out of the way as a flurry of bolts whizzed by.

* * *

 **July 14, 2200 21:12, GST – thirty minutes earlier**

Matthew Clemens kept a good grip on his rifle as he patrolled his section. The rest of the security team was spread through the ship, keeping an eye out for anything unusual during the Gate crossing.

He sighed. Every time they went through one of these giant holes in space, he hated it. They were almost home – back to Earth. He didn't want to endure another unsettling crossing, but it was the only way to get back home in time.

The deck shook. More turbulence. Usually, the rocking was accompanied by a warning.

"The worst Gate in the network," was what their source called this place.

An alarm blared through the halls. "All hands to battle stations. Prepare to repel boarders."

"Gamilons," Clemens growled. "Just let them try to take this ship again." He hefted his rifle and pulled out his communicator. Alerts were coming in from all sections, but the thickest group of enemies was on the other side of the ship. He took off toward the engine room instead.

Two minutes later he ground to a halt, spotting a group of engineers pinned down in the hall, taking heavy fire from a dozen blue-skinned enemies.

One of the panels, pried up from inside the engine room sheltered the men, but several of them were wounded, and only two of them still had their weapons.

Clemens sprinted for the crewmen, diving into their shelter as he took aim and downed the closest enemy.

A cheer erupted around him.

"Stay down," he instructed. "Get the wounded out of here. I'll cover you."

Clemens took out two more assailants as one of the engineers hit a third.

"Go!" Clemens urged as the last man lingered, gun in hand. "Get to a secure area." Clemens laid down cover fire as he and the last engineer backpedaled down the hall.

At the smell of charred wiring and the snap-hiss of melted metal, Clemens' hand flew to his pocket, snuffing out the smolder eating at his uniform. He set his jaw. His com was fused to his pocket, hit by a stray bolt.

"Great," he hissed. "You." He jerked the last engineer to a stop as they rounded a corner. "Where's the closest fire-fight?"

The young man held up his com.

"Thanks. Now get out of here!" Clemens shooed him down the passageway, and then raced toward the next engagement.

Three sections away from the science labs, Clemens nearly barreled into a blue and white clad streak. "What're you doing down here, Nerd?" he scolded.

"Getting to my post," Neville Royster retorted, glaring up at Clemens as he adjusted his glasses.

"Right," Clemens rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go lock yourself in your lab." He shooed Royster off down the hall.

The moment the scientist started down the corridor, laser fire streaked toward them.

"Get down!" Clemens shouted, shoving Royster to the deck as enemy soldiers thundered down the hall. Clemens' right leg burned. He pushed the pain aside and took aim.

Royster scurried behind him.

Two enemies went down.

"Take another route," Clemens instructed, struggling to his feet. He eyed the burn mark on his pant-leg. "There's no way you're getting through here." He fired into the oncoming group, limping back the way he'd come, pushing Royster along.

No matter how many twists and turns they made, the enemy dogged them.

Clemens took three more hits, each added wound slowing him a little more as his shot-up legs started to give out. Despite his injuries, he took down two more pursuers, sending the remaining pair ducking for cover.

The moment Clemens stopped firing, both Gamilons rushed him. He got off several rounds, but they bounced harmlessly into the deck plates.

The two men slammed into Clemens. His lungs clenched, out of air. He crashed to the floor, gasping for breath and fighting to keep the enemy from getting a good hold on him. One of his assailants batted his rifle away and the gun went skittering down the hall.

Clemens managed a full breath and yelped, as the same man grabbed his arm and wrenched it to one side. The snap of crunching bone echoed in his ears. For a moment, he didn't feel anything, then white-hot agony seared into him.

He kicked, pain shooting through his leg as his boot cracked into the second attacker's nose. The Gamilon reeled backward, blood gushing over the front of his uniform.

His first assailant stayed on him, the man's narrowed eyes glaring into Clemens'.

The shing of unsheathing metal sang through the hall. A flash of grey sent Clemens' hand flying out. He grabbed his enemy's hand and pushed with all his might, forcing the glinting blade away from his face.

The soldier leaned in hard, his two hands slowly overpowering Clemens' single good one.

The blade inched closer to his throat, sinking toward him until Clemens felt the deadly kiss of cold metal on his skin. The blade bit into his neck, and blood trickled down onto his collar.

Memories of his days with his old squad flickered in Clemens' mind. "I might be the last one left, but I'm not going down this easily," he growled through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the knife hand.

The trill of a single shot reverberated through the passage.

The Gamilon collapsed, his blade clattering to the floor. Clemens shoved off the limp corpse and looked up to see Royster, standing in the middle of the passage, shaking as he clutched the lost rifle.

Giving Royster a grudging nod, Clemens struggled to his feet, noting with chagrin how many blackened patches marred his legs. He took his rifle back and used it as a temporary walking stick.

Royster tried to help him as he struggled down the hall, but the scientist couldn't hold the bigger man up for long.

"We've got to find cover," Clemens said. "There's gonna be more of them."

"There's a maintenance hatch close by," Royster said, checking his com. "This way."

Clemens limped along until they made it to the alcove, and then he eased to the floor while Royster reached for the control panel.

" _Emergency locks engaged,"_ the ship computer announced the instant Royster touched the controls.

Royster frantically punched in a series of numbers. An error message blared, and the control panel flashed red. "It won't let me through," Royster wailed.

"Try it manually," Clemens instructed.

Royster pried open a panel beside the sealed door, revealing a lever. The scientist screeched and jumped back as a solid ten-count of laser fire pelted the handle, melting it to the wall.

Both men ducked into the narrow alcove lip as shots streamed past.

"We'll have to get into the door systems." Royster dug his com back out and fiddled with it, connecting some wires from the door panel to the device as he flipped through menus.

Clemens grabbed Royster's communicator and shoved his rifle in the young man's face. "Hold them off."

"But I've never used one of these before today," Royster squeaked. "This thing is as big as me!"

"You did just fine back in the hall, Nerd," Clemens retorted. "Just aim and shoot! We don't have another choice."

Royster took the rifle, muttering under his breath as he tugged the weapon tight against his shoulder, knuckles white. His hands shook as he swung the rifle barrel around the corner.

* * *

 **July 14, 2200; 21:43, GST – thirty-one minutes later**

The Gamilon burst into the alcove, searching for a target.

Clemens grabbed for his knife.

The enemy soldier saw Royster and whirled, but the scientist was faster. With wild eyes and a terrified screech, Royster squeezed the trigger four times, hitting the Gamilon with every shot.

Clemens eased his hand away from his knife as the corpse crashed to the deck. "Concentrate on getting back to that lab of yours in one piece," he offered.

Royster gave a stuttered nod, his eyes clearing. "Get the distress beacon activated on my com."

"Okay. That I know how to do." Clemens fumbled with the device one-handed and activated the beacon.

A warning message flashed on the screen, _"Your area is inaccessible to rescue teams. Please allow the emergency status in your section to clear."_

Clemens hissed, gripping the com tighter as he ground his teeth."Throw me your pistol," he instructed.

"I don't have it," Royster replied. "It's still in my room."

"Great," Clemens muttered, staring down at the communicator. "We're sitting ducks in here! There's nothing else we can –" He sat up straight, eyes lighting up. "We've got one more card up our sleeve." He whipped out a multi-tool and attacked Royster's com, prying it apart.

"Hey! Don't do that! Use your own if you're gonna destroy one," Royster protested.

"Mine is fried – got hit in the crossfire a little while ago. I can't even get it out of my pocket." Clemens struggled with the device. "Should have done this in the first place," he grunted. "Keep 'em off me."

Royster took a deep breath and fired a thick barrage into the knot of enemies.

"Shut your eyes and cover your ears," Clemens instructed seconds later as he lobbed Royster's com into the thick of the enemy, immediately clapping his hand over one ear and mashing the other against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut as a bone-rattling shriek pierced the air, and a blast of searing light sent spots drilling into his vision.

He heard four crashes as their attackers hit the floor, disoriented.

"Let's get outta here," Clemens instructed, struggling to his feet again with Royster's help.

"This way." Royster pointed down the hall. "There's another maintenance hatch we can get through." He looked back at the Gamilons fumbling around on the floor. "I don't think they'll follow us this time."

* * *

 **July 14, 2200; 23:16, GST – an hour and a half later**

Clemens sat up in his bed. The unwieldy cast on his right arm was uncomfortable, and his legs, wrapped in multiple places, ached. His eye swelled, promising a shiner within a day or two, and he knew he'd be covered in bruises tomorrow.

The cut on his neck stung as he twisted his head.

Clemens sighed, looking up at the white ceiling. The beds all around him were occupied, their spaces separated by drawn curtains. The crewmen with the worst injuries were stationed in the rooms at the back of the medical bay.

He listened, hearing visitors talking to others about the boarding.

A woman in one of the nearby sections said, "When the boarders retreated, that Gamilon capitol ship fired on us, but the XO activated a reflective shield, and it sent the enemy's fire right back at them."

Clemens chuckled.

The curtain rustled. "Can I come in?" a timid voice asked.

"Yeah," Clemens replied absently.

Royster appeared, a small box in hand.

"What're you doing here?" Clemens asked. "Thought you'd be down in the lab talking about that fancy shield we just used against the Gamilons."

"Well, I was… but I wanted to come say… thanks. You got me out of a bad situation." Royster held out the box. "I think you might need this."

Clemens took the offering and slipped the top off the box. Inside lay a new communicator.

"I got one too." With a grin, Royster waved his shiny new device at Clemens. "Got all my data reloaded from the server – yours too. It's all set up and ready to use. I have to say, I didn't know you knew your way around electronics that well."

"Yeah. It was kinda like being on the bomb squad again – not the same of course, but it brought back some memories." Clemens turned the com on. "And what about you? I didn't know you had it in you to shoot anything bigger than an astro-automatic."

"Twenty years of first-person shooters, I guess," Royster mumbled.

"You shoot straighter than I thought." Clemens looked down at the home screen. A green dot glowed at the edge of one menu option – Personal Network. He tapped it. At the bottom of the short list was an item he hadn't seen before, NR-5p4c3n32d. "What's this?" Clemens pointed at the listing.

"That's… my video game server. If you ever want to join a game, just jump in. You can pick your name when you get there," Royster said.

Clemens nodded. "Maybe I'll sit in sometime." He slowly offered his unbroken arm. "Truce, Nerd – Neville?"

"How about comrades in arms?" Royster asked.

Clemens shook Royster's hand. "Sounds okay to me."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Written for the WA Role Reversal Challenge

This story takes place during the _Cure Seekers_ episode entitled "One Man's War."

Next week, we're off to "Seeker's Prayer" again, this time for Chapter 2: At the Seams.

Until then, happy reading and writing,

*dtill359


	11. Flower

**Flower**

 **The Orion family's apartment; Great Island, Japan**

 **November 25, 2200**

"Grandpa!" Kathleen ran to greet the snowy-haired old man.

He scooped her up and hugged her. "How's my favorite six-year-old?"

"Great, Grandpa." Kathleen hugged his neck. "You've got to see the cake Momma made." She pointed toward the kitchen. Her grandfather set her down, and she snagged his hand. "Come on." She led him into the other room. "See?" Kathleen pointed to the pink, single-layer cake topped with blue flowers and a little plastic horse. "It's so pretty!"

"Your grandpa has to get back to work soon, dear." Her mother popped her head into the kitchen and beckoned her back into the living room. "Let's open presents while he's here."

"Yes, Momma." Kathleen tugged her grandfather over to his favorite chair. "Here you go." She smiled at him as she settled onto the ottoman in front of her grandfather. Her mother perched on the couch.

"Here's your present from Uncle Patrick," her mother said as she handed Kathleen a small, green box. "He couldn't get off work, but he said he'll eat a piece of cake with you tonight when he gets home."

Kathleen grinned and accepted the box. She pulled the lid off and peered inside. Another box. She picked it up, examining it from every angle before she popped it open. "Wow!" She pulled out a thin, gold chain. On it hung a pink and gold heart charm. She held it out to her grandpa. "Can you put it on for me?"

He smiled and took the necklace, hooking it around her neck, and then pulling her reddish-brown hair out of the chain. "There."

"Here." Her mother handed her a small mirror.

"It's so pretty. I'm never taking it off," she declared.

Her mother smiled. "Are you ready for your other present?"

Kathleen nodded and set the mirror aside.

"This is from your father and me." Her mother held out a long, thin package wrapped in brown paper.

Kathleen accepted the gift, tugging the taped folds open without ripping the paper. When she slid out an old book, her eyes sparkled.

"Momma…" She ran a hand over the glossed cover. "Is it… really for me?" Pictures of flowers, birds and other animals graced the front of the book.

"Yes, dear." Her mother nodded.

"A Field Guide to the Mas–uh–chew–seh–ts low country." Kathleen beamed. "Did I get it right?"

"You did very well," replied her mother.

Kathleen flipped through the book, ignoring the dog-eared pages and scuffed binding. Crisp images entranced her. "So many colors," she wondered. "It's amazing! Thank you, Momma! I'll give Papa a big hug when he gets home."

"He'll be glad you liked it."

Kathleen held out her new treasure. "See! My first _real_ book, Grandpa!" She hugged it. "Will you read some of it to me before I go to sleep?"

"Of course, I will." Her grandfather smiled.

"Pop, you need to get back, don't you?" Her mother headed for the door.

"Soon." He waved her back to the couch. "But first." His eyes met Kathleen's. "I've got something for you." He dug into his work bag and pulled out a plain box.

Kathleen held it in her lap, running a finger along the smooth lid before opening it. "Grandpa!" She lifted a delicate, blue flower out of the box. It was light, resembling a real flower, but the petals were shiny, thick and smooth, with the faint scent of paint lingering over them. "It's beautiful."

"I made it on the way back from Iscandar," her grandfather said.

"What kind of flower is it? It's not in any of my books." Kathleen caressed one of the fine leaves.

"That's because it's Iscandarian," he replied.

"Really?" Kathleen admired the flower's crystal-like center. "Can I see your pictures of Is–can–dar now?"

"Hmm." He tapped his comm's screen. "Here." He held it out.

With great care, Kathleen placed her flower back in its box before taking the device. She grinned at the first picture—a flower just like hers. She flipped to the next image. A herd of wild horses thundered across a field as long blades of grass waved in the breeze.

She scrolled through two dozen pictures. Images of animals and plants thrilled her.

"Grandpa…" she whispered and held up the comm. "Who's this?" A woman, tall, with pristine skin, looked out over a rolling ocean; her golden-orange hair and long, blue dress swept back in the breeze.

Her grandfather's eyes softened. "That… is Queen Starsha."

"Really?" Kathleen asked in wonder. "A real queen? Like in the stories?"

Her grandfather nodded. "Just like that. She's… very brave and kind."

Kathleen gave back the comm and hopped into her grandfather's lap, throwing her arms around his neck. "I'm going to go meet her one day."

He chuckled. "She would love that."

* * *

 **Great Island School District 4, Hiro Elementary**

 **September 4, 2201 – ten months later**

Kathleen skipped to the far end of the recess yard. Her shoes bounced on the recycled rubber bits that composed the ground. When she was ten feet from the swings, she overheard a boy, two years older than her bragging to his three friends near the fence.

"My dad says, compared to the _Andromeda,_ the _Argo_ 's an old fishing boat," he said.

"How can you say something so awful?" Kathleen marched through the foursome, eyes burning crisp hazel. " _Argo_ is better than _An–drom–eda_." She stared up into the boy's face, hands curled into fists.

"Yeah, to you—since you can't even talk right," the older boy teased.

Kathleen ignored the jab. "The _Argo_ saved everybody on Earth. What did that other ship do?" she challenged.

"You're a loser." The boy shoved her away.

She stumbled and fell, the rubber chunks digging into her bare knees, but she refused to cry. "The _Argo_ 's my grandpa's ship. He helped build it."

"That's why it looks so old." The bully sneered and hauled Kathleen up by a fistful of hair.

She screamed and swiped at the boy's hand as strands of hair ripped away from her scalp.

"Hey!" Another boy, shorter than the four bullies, smacked her attacker's hand away. He caught Kathleen as she staggered back. "Quit it, Javier."

"Or what, shorty?" Javier taunted, his face hovering three inches from her rescuer's. "You gonna blabber about how much you love that tin can too?" he scoffed. "Fine. Whatever." He backed away and motioned for his three friends to follow him. "You two deserve each other."

"You okay?" The new boy's brown eyes smiled at her.

Kathleen nodded and sniffed. "Yeah." She rubbed her stinging head.

"I'm Jordy." The boy put his hands in his pockets. His worn jeans and faded green shirt put her at ease.

She brushed a wrinkle out of her old, blue dress, her hand lingering over a small patch near the hem. "Kathleen." She smiled. "Why'd you help me?"

"The _Argo_ 's my big brother's ship." He kicked a rubber chunk. "Javier and me have had a couple… run-ins."

"Why don't the teachers do anything?" Kathleen asked, looking over at the three adults talking near the front of the recess yard.

"They don't care," Jordy said, walking Kathleen over to the swings. "They agree with Javier… A lot of people forgot everything that happened two years ago. Not me. I won't ever forget."

"Me neither," Kathleen said. "My grandpa's one of the bravest people in the world."

Jordy nodded. "That's what I think about my brother too." He claimed a swing and Kathleen took the adjacent one. "Javier can talk all he wants."

"Thanks for saving me," Kathleen said.

"You're welcome. Hey! You said your grandpa was on the _Argo_. What did he do?" Jordy said.

"He's the en–gin–eer," Kathleen replied, cheeks reddening as she struggled through the word.

Jordy's eyes lit. "Really? Chief Orion is your grandpa? That's amazing!" Using his foot as an anchor, he twisted the swing around, tangling its chain until the whole length wound together, and then he picked up his foot.

Jordy whirled in a dizzying circle. "Woohoo!"

Kathleen giggled.

"Hey." Jordy's swing twisted to a halt. "You wanna come over some time? I've got something really great my brother brought me from Iscandar."

"Oh! I would like that." Kathleen grinned. "I've got something I can show you too."

"Mom and Dad are working the next few days, but how about next week?" Jordy asked.

"I'll ask Momma, but I don't think she'll mind."

"All right!" Jordy twisted his swing chain again, sending himself for another whirl. "This will be great!"

* * *

 **Orion family's apartment; Great Island, Japan**

 **September 7, 2201**

The big, fluffy, purple tiger nuzzled her shoulder.

"Stop it, Mr. Hobbes," Kathleen scolded. "I'll fall over."

"I'm not Mr. Hobbes," the tiger replied.

Kathleen's brow furrowed. "Yes, you are."

"No, Kathleen, it's Grandpa."

The dream faded, and Kathleen cracked open her eyes. With a yawn she blinked and rubbed her eyes. She sat up in bed, the chill air hitting her exposed hands. "It's dark outside. It's not time for school yet."

"No, lass," he replied. "I wanted to say good-bye."

"But it's too early for work." Kathleen eyed his clothes. "Where's your uni–form, Grandpa?"

"I'm wearing it." He rolled up his white sleeves. Even in the dark room, lit only by a horse-shaped night-light, she could see the orange insignia on the front of his shirt.

Excitement jolted through her. "You're going somewhere with the rest of the Star Force again. Are you going back to Is–can–dar?" She started to get up. "Can I come?"

"No, little one. Back in bed. We're not going back to Iscandar, and… we won't be back right away."

Kathleen patted her grandfather's knee. "Just like the man said."

"Man?" Her grandfather's brow furrowed.

"I don't remember his name—it sounded funny—but he was there today when school ended. He was nice—tall with big blue eyes. He said you were doing something important, but you'd be back."

Her grandfather hugged her. "I want you to listen." He held her at arm's length. "People will say bad things about the _Argo_ and everybody on board while we're gone."

"That's okay, Grandpa." Kathleen hugged him back. "I know better than to listen to everything people say." She pulled away. "Can I stay up and watch the _Argo_ launch?" She wrapped up in her blanket, her fuzzy-sock covered toes peaking out from under the covers.

"That's up to your parents," he replied.

Kathleen gave him a pleading look.

"I'll ask them for you."

"Yay!" Kathleen hopped out of bed, blanket dragging the floor as she thumped into the living room, her grandfather three steps behind her.

* * *

 **Venture family's apartment; Great Island, Japan**

 **September 10, 2201**

Kathleen stood by the railing. "Thanks for inviting me over."

Jordy stood next to her, straining on tip-toe. He leaned on the tiny balcony's railing. "This view is great," he said. "And it's nice to have somebody else to play with. Most of the other kids think I'm weird."

"You're not weird," Kathleen replied. Her face fell. "Nobody talks to me either since Grandpa left three days ago… Not even the teachers."

"Same." Jordy sighed. "Mark left too." He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Kathleen. "He gave me this."

She opened the note.

 _Jordy,_

 _I've got to go with the rest of the Star Force. I don't know what's going on yet, but Earth needs the_ Argo _again. People will say we're foolish, but they don't understand. Earth needs our help again. I'll see you soon._

 _Love,_

 _Mark_

"My brother talks about your grandpa sometimes," Jordy said, taking the note back. "I want to be the _Argo'_ s engineer when I grow up." He stepped away from the balcony. "Come on. I want to show you something."

Curious, Kathleen followed him to his room. It was small—just a little bigger than hers, but Jordy's had two beds. She stared at the bigger one, neat and recently made. A blue uniform spread over it, one sleeve askew.

"Look at this." Jordy held up a gleaming blue-green stone. A few flecks of gold shone within the rock. "It's Iscandarium."

"Is-can-da-rium?" Kathleen managed.

"Queen Starsha gave it to my brother to give to me," he said, eyes bright.

Kathleen pulled a box out of her backpack. "Here."

"That's an Iscandarian flower!" Jordy exclaimed when he opened the box.

Kathleen fingered the smooth petals, and then held it out for Jordy to examine.

"Can I… hold it?"

"Sure." She gave it to him. "It was my birthday present last year." She sighed. "I don't think Grandpa will be back for my birthday this year… But he's doing something important, so it's okay. Maybe _you_ can come instead." She brightened. "It's November twenty-fifth. You don't have to bring anything."

"I'd love to go. I'll ask Mom." Jordy smiled as he studied the flower. "This is so great! You should put it up in your room, somewhere everybody can see it." He handed it back.

Kathleen boxed up the flower and slipped it back into her bag.

Jordy flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Hey!" He sat up straight. "You and me should join the Star Force together when we're older."

Kathleen sat next to Jordy. "That's a great idea. Let's do it."

Jordy thumped onto the bed again. "All right!"

"Promise you won't forget?" Kathleen poked his cheek.

"Of course, I promise." He rolled over and pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack, lying open on his pillow. He scribbled on the paper and held it up. "There. Now I'll never forget. You wanna sign it too?" He offered her his pen.

Kathleen snagged the items and scrawled her name under Jordy's.

The boy nodded in approval and folded the paper with care. He wedged it under his Iscandarium shard, sitting atop the dresser.

"We're gonna go on a lot of adventures," Kathleen declared.

"Yup." Jordy nodded. "We sure are."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Hope you all enjoyed last week's post, "Fainthearted," and this week's "Flower."

Next week, we're rolling over to _Seeker's Prayer_ for chapter three, "In the Weeds." See you all there.

Happy reading and writing,

*dtill359


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